


Family Ties

by nightmares06, PL1



Series: Brothers Adopted [2]
Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Bar, Borrowers - Freeform, Drinking, G/T, Gen, Hunt, Hunter - Freeform, Lonely Dean, Lost - Freeform, Older brother Sam, On The Hunt, Original Character(s), Size Kink, Supply Run, TINY - Freeform, Wall - Freeform, Whiskey - Freeform, Younger Brother, adopted brother, adopted family, g/t story, g/t writing, giant, gianttiny, in the walls, living in the walls, older brother, protective older brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 69,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7852669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been three years since Jacob Andris found himself cursed to live at barely a twentieth of his height, and his adopted brother Sam Winchester has finally decided it’s time for his first trip to the rooms without Walt Watch’s supervision. How will Jacob’s supply run go when it’s just him and Sam?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lost Brother

Dean sighed as he stared down into his glass of whiskey. Another day, another case... getting by just to get by, like he always did.  
  
Picking up the glass, he swirled the dark amber liquid around, making the ice clink merrily against the side before he downed it in one go. The warmth of the drink helped pushed away the dark thoughts that lurked in his mind, the cloud that hung over him for half his life.  
  
That was what made him motion for another drink, tapping against the glass with a light finger. With only a few other patrons in the bar he had another whiskey in hand in less than a minute. The bartender knew better than to ask him about his woes, by the set in his shoulders and the look on his face.  
  
For years, this ritual helped him dull the pain that lurked within him. A pain that had appeared after losing his younger brother, Sam. The pain that was the source of the dark cloud that hung over him. After that loss, Dean had tossed himself into learning all he could about hunting. From his father, from Bobby... it hadn't mattered. He wanted to know it all. Every facet of the job could be vital one day...  
  
...Especially when you were on your own.  
  
There was no one around for Dean Winchester to call on to be his backup. Not even his father.  
  
Tracking, research, building his own weapons... it didn't matter what he was learning. Dean threw his all into mastering every skill that he could.  
  
His life might not matter anymore, but he could at least save someone else’s.  
  
The cloud of pain had dampened when his father first started taking him on hunts, giving him the opportunity to focus his efforts into helping people. And then John Winchester had vanished into thin air.  
  
The dark cloud returned.  
  
Dean was alone. And this time, it might be for good.  
  
He sighed. A hard look in his eyes deepened infinitesimally. The whiskey wasn't cutting it for him tonight. The amulet around his neck hung heavy, bringing to mind two hopeful hazel eyes staring up at him as he opened his present...  
  
_Sam's screams fill the air as the light hits him. The cackle of the witch echoes around both brothers as the world turns white... and Sam vanishes.  
  
_ Gone.  
  
Forever.  
  
Dean, pinned to the wall. Forced to watch the little brother he was supposed to protect, the little brother he'd do anything for, _give up anything_ for, even his own life, die.  
  
“ _No! Leave Sammy alone, you bitch!_ ”  
  
Useless.  
  
_What use are you? No matter how many people you save, you can never go back. You can never save him. You failed, and that's all that matters._  
  
Dean tossed back his new whiskey with a faint grimace, trying to force the self-flagellating voice out of his mind. Bury it back, deep in the corners where it belonged, waiting to haunt him in his sleep with shattered memories of a life lost years ago. A promise to always be there for his little brother crushed in a moment.  
  
The voice always waited. Patient, lurking until his barriers dropped, and then burying him underneath a wave of guilt and self-loathing the second he let down his shields.  
  
A buzzing noise from his pocket caught his attention. Curious and grateful for the distraction, Dean dug out his cell, flipping it open.  
  
A message lit up the screen, two words glowing in front of his eyes.  
  
**Haven, Kansas.**  
  
Dean frowned. The name tickled at his memory, and he didn't recognize the number it had come from. There were only a few people that had Dean's number, so that narrowed down the list of possibilities. He wasn’t what people labeled as ‘sociable.’  
  
_Friggin' bastard..._  
  
Throwing down the cash to cover his tab and tip, Dean stalked out of the bar, dialing up his father's cell.  
  
Desperate for an answer.  


* * *

 

**SUPERNATURAL**

* * *

  
_Never drop your guard. Take it in steps. Stay alert. Patience is key to survival. Wait and analyze if ... if the risk is worth the gain._  
  
The lessons repeated haltingly in Jacob's head as he followed close behind Sam, blinking in the dark. He was still getting used to the almost total lack of light in the walls, and had yet to develop the extra sense for it like Sam and Walt had. It was Walt's expert advice that played in a near constant loop in his head. Every single time he was allowed out, he tried to go through all of it.  
  
There was so much to remember. Jacob's hand tightened on the strap of his leather satchel as he walked along on silent steps, determined to commit them to memory.  
  
His survival depended on it, after all.  
  
He took a deep breath of the stifling air within the walls. It smelled of dust and wood, with the occasional whiff of mouse. Their furry companions in the walls were nowhere to be found now, but Jacob guessed they'd become more active as the day grew closer to evening. It was usually safer to move about when the humans were asleep or close to it.  
  
Usually.  
  
When Sam had invited him along to go on a supply run in one of the motel's rooms before check-in time, Jacob leapt at the opportunity.  
  
He was still learning the ropes on how to survive at his reduced size. At least Jacob wasn't alone. He had a family of people like him who had taken him in as soon as they found him. The world was too big for a boy reduced to almost a twentieth his natural size by a witch's curse.  
  
It had only been about three years ago, but the time stretched out behind him. A number of harsh lessons had to be learned. Things before the curse felt distant, and yet so close he could imagine they were yesterday.  
  
Jacob simply couldn't be a part of the world he grew up in anymore. He was tiny, standing just under Walt's 3.8 inch height. Walt, the man who saved him and stepped up to be his father in his new family.  
  
Sam, on the other hand, was like a brother to Jacob. He'd helped with the rescue. He was always nearby in the following weeks as Jacob adjusted to his new size, and his new life hiding away in the walls. Jacob had to hide away from everyone he might have known in his old life. They were a danger to him now. Jacob's mother, thinking him lost or dead, had left the motel, and left Jacob behind for good.  
  
Sam understood his pain and fear. He'd been in the same situation thirteen years ago. Cursed, reduced in size, abandoned by his family ... he and Jacob would always share the aching loss.  
  
Jacob looked up to Sam. His skill with his fishhook and climbing line was unlike anything Jacob had ever seen. Over a decade of practice had made him as quick and stealthy as Walt, and he was good at the patience their adopted father urged so fervently. Sam was like some kind of Indiana Jones in real life (and in miniature). Jacob could only hope to be as skillful someday.  
  
_Take it in steps. Listen for breathing. Wait ..._ Jacob repeated in his head. Walt had the same lecture for him every time he left their home under the floor. Even Sam heard the same warnings every time he would leave for the rooms. Neither of them would even dream of ignoring him. Walt knew better than anyone how dangerous and ruthless humans could be if they got their hands on one of their kind.  
  
After all, he’d lost a child to humans years back.  
  
Jacob's boot scraped over what to him was like a pebble, but in reality was more like a speck of dust. In the cautious silence he and Sam walked through, it seemed like the loudest sound in the world. Jacob grimaced, knowing he should have paid more attention. He barely refrained from whispering an apology to the man walking ahead of him. He _had_ to prove himself.  
  
Sam remained silent for the journey, used to the long trip through the walls. The room that they lived in with their adopted family was almost never used, along with the rooms around it. Because of that, they had to comb farther away for food and supplies, but it was worth the extra work. Fewer humans around meant less chance of them being discovered, less chance of being captured. It was easier to learn the ropes around there in the walls because if you made a mistake, there wasn't anyone around to hear it.  
  
Eventually, a light shone in the distance. Soft grey morning sunlight was filtering in through a vent in the wall. Sam hunched over and motioned Jacob to do the same, padding silently up to the slitted vent. He almost held his breath once they were next to it, listening for any unexpected occupants.  
  
The room beyond the bars of light was silent. He was disappointed to see signs of a vacuum being run; it meant the maids had already gone through and cleaned. The only good thing about that would be the fact that they weren't overly thorough, and if they'd already cleaned inside the room, it was unlikely to see any humans come around until the afternoon check-in time at the _Trails West Motel_.  
  
They'd need to remain vigilant the entire time regardless. Check-in time might be hours away, but the motel was lax as long as the patrons were willing to pay. Any room that had been cleaned was up for grabs if someone needed a place to crash after a night's drive, and that meant that finding a time where it was completely _safe_ to comb through a room was nearly impossible.  
  
Safe or not, they needed the food.  
  
The cozy room that Walt and Mallory used as a pantry was nearly empty of any of the food they'd saved up over the last weeks and months. Even the jerkied rat meat from the last rat that made the mistake of making its home nearby was almost depleted, leaving them without a fallback supply.  
  
Walt himself was debating on making a run to the kitchens, one of the more dangerous sources of food available to them. With four families living in the motel, it would be easy for them to be discovered if everyone went to the kitchen to find supplies, which was why Sam and Walt, and soon Jacob once he was more certain of himself to go on his own, spent so much time searching rooms that humans had stayed in recently.  
  
Once he was certain the room outside was empty, and there were no sounds that came from within, Sam grabbed onto the thick metal vent and shoved it so the panels were horizontal. He and Jacob were small enough to slip right through, and Sam did so the moment he could.  
  
Head on a swivel, Sam assessed the room before gesturing to Jacob to follow. There was no sign of habitation, and the only sound that filtered in was the birds chirping peacefully outside in the morning air. The rumble of cars was distant, the parking lot silent. Sam let out a nervous breath as he waited. No matter how prepared they were, there was always the possibility that this time would be the time they were caught. He was determined to keep Jacob safe, no matter what.  
  
Jacob did his best to mimic Sam. His stance, his watchfulness, the way he planted his feet, all of it made an important contribution to why Sam had never been caught. Jacob had to be that way too if he wanted to survive as long. There wasn't room for slacking in anything that he did like there might have been in his past life as a human.  
  
The big difference between the two of them was that when Jacob slipped out of the wall, he had quite a bit more awe on his face than Sam did. From the position by the vent, everything stretched out in front and to the sides. The ceiling was impossibly far away, and all the furniture was towering and unmoving. Lit up by the light through the thin curtains, the shabby motel room tried to look inviting, but it was tough to see it that way from his size. It was a terrain he had to deal with, but even Jacob knew that everything outside the haven in the walls was unsafe.  
  
Without looking, his hand shifted aside the flap of his satchel and slipped into the supply bag. It wrapped around a coiled rope of twine with wires at one end, sturdy twists of metal salvaged from an old broken bag clip. Jacob anticipated there would be some climbing, so he had his grappling rope ready in his hand before even taking another step away from the wall.  
  
Thankfully, the looming room was empty, so they could explore it without worrying about being spotted for now.  
  
Jacob looked to Sam with a faint smile, ready to follow his lead.

[Artwork by Mogadeer](http://mogadeer.tumblr.com/)


	2. Jacob's First Trip to the Rooms

The vent was nestled not far from the entrance of the room. There were two queen sized beds that towered over the entire area, and further away the table and the mini-fridge loomed high over their heads. With quick movements, Sam darted off, angling to get underneath the cover of the beds as fast as possible. It was rare, but he'd been trapped in a room with humans around before. Under the bed was a huge open area, but it was a place that people rarely checked before they left.  
  
"Make sure you always keep close to the walls or the furniture," Sam reminded Jacob as they passed underneath the dark safety of the bed. He hated to sound repetitive, unlike Walt, who would repeat himself until the new year began. Walt had his reasons.  
  
Sam didn't want anything to happen to Jacob, so he made sure to siphon whatever stern demeanor he could from their adopted father while he talked. "Anywhere that gives you cover, really. Getting caught out in the open, away from anywhere to hide is the worst. It takes just three steps for an average human to cover the distance from the bed to the vent. It'll take either of us a lot longer, so you want to make sure you're as hard to find as possible." Jacob listened to him with a wide-eyed attentiveness that had become familiar over the years.  
  
The floor underneath the bed was dirty and dusty. It often got overlooked when the maids did their cleaning, leaving a dustbunny mess for Jacob and Sam to pick their way through, but that also meant that it was a good place to find supplies. Forgotten items, discarded wrappers that still had food in them... they needed to take advantage of anything they could find. As long as the food wasn't moldy or bug-ridden, it would be put to good use.  
  
With them both out of immediate sight, he let his guard drop a little, waiting for Jacob to catch up so they could walk together for a moment. "So, exciting enough for you yet?" Sam said with a sudden grin, emboldened by the smooth trip so far.  
  
Jacob grinned, his heart still pounding from the sprint across the floor. He really had to push himself to keep up with Sam or Walt when they ran. Jacob had built himself for endurance more than speed before his curse, and he was still making up for it. Three years had seen him improving a lot, but he had a long way to go.  
  
"You kidding? This is simple," he quipped in a low voice. Even with no humans in the room, it felt weird to think about speaking at a louder volume. That at least was one lesson Jacob had learned easily.  
  
He glanced back over the distance to the vent. It was hard to believe that such a wide expanse of worn-out carpet fibers was mere steps for a human, a negligible distance to him just three years ago. Jacob had peeked in on a room once or twice and seen people moving about with their gigantic bodies. He knew Sam's words were true. That was why, where most teenagers his age resented repetition, Jacob appreciated it. He hoped it never came down to a race across the open between him and a human.   
  
If it came to that, Jacob had already lost.  
  
He looked back towards the front as the two brothers walked, trying to spot anything they could salvage. Tangles of dust and fuzz formed a ludicrous hedge maze around them, to be navigated carefully unless they wanted to carry home their weight in dustbunnies. Some of that stuff might well have been there since the motel opened. Jacob was sure they didn't move the beds to vacuum beneath them more than once in a blue moon.  
  
Something bright and colorful caught his attention. Jacob nudged the torn scrap of a _Laffy Taffy_ wrapper carefully with his boot, avoiding the loud crinkle that followed such wrappers wherever they went. It was empty (no surprises there), but he tilted his head to read the joke on the side. " 'Why did the chicken cross the playground .... to get to the other slide.' That's some wasted comic talent right there," he jested, smiling faintly. Sam almost smirked.  
  
It was way easier to make light of such things than it was to dwell on the fact that the letters were now huge and bold where, before, he'd almost have a hard time reading them.  
  
Jacob was about to stoop to pick up the torn plastic, since he knew anything could be potentially useful, even what looked like garbage to the untrained eye. He didn't know offhand what it might be good for, but he knew better than to leave anything behind. At least, until something far more interesting caught his attention with a brief glimmer. Abandoning the wrapper, he stood and went briskly to it, tugging it out of a large snarl of dust and long human hairs.  
  
It was an earring, with a long silver hook. It was simple, but elegant. The teardrop-shaped gem set into the front drew Jacob's gaze and held it. He brushed some dust off the surface, seeing a deep red glint in it when he did. It was a ruby bigger than a softball.  
  
"Think Mallory would like this?" he asked, looking up from his find at Sam.  
  
“ ‘Like it?’ ” Sam repeated with a proud smile. “She’ll _love_ it. Nice job. Who knows how long it’s been sitting down here.” He shook his head. It was amazing how much the maids missed in the rooms, but that was one of the foremost reasons this was a good place for them to live. The people staying in the rooms changed week to week, the maids were lax… it made it easier to get supplies without the humans noticing anything was missing.  
  
“Not to mention, I bet Walt can figure out something to use that hook for.” Sam brushed the smooth, cool metal with a hand, cleaning off more of the dust. The metal glimmered in the dim light. “Just imagine how many human women want a gem that size. She’ll probably set it up where it catches the light.” He could just imagine how happy Mallory would be with Jacob’s find. She was always trying to spruce up their small, cozy home with different splashes of color, like drapes on the walls sewn from bright scraps of fabric brought home by her boys.  
  
Sam gave the earring a quick pat. “Keep that in your satchel. There’s no way you want to lose it.” He sidled out from under the bed, glancing around quickly before setting his sights on the table. “We should check to see if they missed any food, or forgot to wipe off the table again. And you can work a bit on your climbing while we go. You’ve got some work if you want to be faster than me.” He threw Jacob a confident grin over his shoulder as he walked under the length of the bed, heading for the foot, and beyond that, the open room.  
  
Jacob scoffed and rolled his eyes, but there was a matching smile on his own face. "Right, I'll surprise you one day, just you wait." He followed Sam, keeping to the shadows under the bed until the last possible moment. While he walked, he carefully tucked the earring away in his bag, setting it next to a length of copper wire he kept on hand in case he needed it.  
  
A lot of Jacob's supplies were based on "just in case he needed it.” He had a crumpled scrap of foil, a torn piece of paper with a map of the motel (made by Sam when _he_ was still new to the place and learning his way around), and a very small lightbulb that was, of course, almost as big as his head. There was also a broken piece of a comb, a handy tool for all kinds of purposes, and way at the bottom of his handmade leather bag was a green glass bead, carefully kept safe. Jacob brushed his fingertips over it, getting a sense of the familiar in the cold, smooth surface, before closing his bag once more. The ruby might be his best find today.  
  
A leather loop on the side of his bag supported his final and hopefully never necessary “just in case” supply. A nail, one of his first finds in the walls at his new size, adorned the bag like a sword. It was the only weapon he had for defending himself.  
  
He paused when they reached the foot of the bed. Another open expanse of floor waited between them and the table. It'd be another several seconds completely exposed and vulnerable, but Sam was right; there could be some food up on that enormous table and they needed to take the opportunity to check.  
  
When Sam darted towards the table, Jacob was quick to follow. As he ran he took his grappling rope from where he'd propped it on his shoulder and got a solid grip around the hook so it didn't bounce against him as he ran. He felt his pulse pounding in his hands. The open air yawned above them, but Jacob managed not to gape around at everything as he ran.  
  
Focus. Focus was key.  
  
He stumbled to a stop at the base of the table. Staring straight up, Jacob uncoiled the twine in his hands. He knew without looking that Sam was doing the same with his own grappling line, a fishhook and some clear, sturdy fishing line. Jacob reared back, ready to throw his hook straight into the air, following the example Sam and Walt had set time and time again. At least this was something Jacob had figured out how to do fairly quickly; ever since shrinking, he'd found he was a lot stronger than he'd expect, and throwing something like a small hook up to the table was easy for him.  
  
Of course, getting the hook that high was only half the battle. While Sam's grappling hook caught on the edge of the table, Jacob's bounced off it and fell back down. "Fuckdammit," he swore, gathering up the twine to try again.  
  
Sam was already well ahead of him. Thankfully, the hook caught on the second throw, and Jacob could begin his cautious climb upwards. He was more careful, less sure of himself, so he took more time to squirrel his way up to the table. Jacob always kept his focus on the rope in front of him, praying his grip never wavered.  
  
Sam reached the top of the table in no time, hauling himself over the edge. He did a brief check of how secure the grip of his and Jacob’s hooks were, making sure that Jacob’s wouldn’t slip on him. They’d leave the hooks at the ready for the trip down, or for any emergencies. It was a bad idea to remove their only escape path. Climbing down the legs of the table with nothing more than hands and feet was a dangerous and slow venture, not one to risk if it could be avoided.  
  
He waited by the edge while Jacob made his way to the top, surveying the room from above. Getting such a point of view was rare, and was something that needed to be taken advantage of when possible.  
  
Both beds looked pristine, the covers tucked snugly into the sides and the pillows neat and fluffed. The nightstand in between them had the standard phone and alarm clock sitting on the top. An older remote was near the edge, and a pad of paper. The dresser with the television on it had a vase filled with fake flowers not far from Sam and Jacob, and he couldn’t make out anything past the vase itself. There could be forgotten items hidden in its shadow, or past the TV. It might be worth checking there next.  
  
The table itself had the standard motel pamphlets sitting in the center with a pen that was longer than Sam or Jacob was tall, along with a listing of the channels for the TV. Everything was haphazardly left lying about in a heap, making it hard to tell if there was anything that might not be missed, or anything that could be useful.  
  
When Jacob reached the top, Sam offered him a hand to help him over the edge. He eyed the immense door at the other end of the room while he did so, narrowing his eyes at the serene sunlight that filtered its way into the room.   
  
Deceptively calm.  
  
"Thanks," Jacob muttered, brushing his hands off on his jeans. He took a second to let himself stare in awe around the room. The table was barely half the height of an average human. Jacob might as well be standing on a building a few stories tall. Sam seemed like he'd gotten used to it, and Jacob was never sure _how._  
  
There were some water spots near the edge of the table that suggested a wet cloth had been wiped over it hastily, but that didn't rule out the possibility of there being crumbs of something left behind on the table. The maids were quick and uncaring most of the time.  
  
Jacob started towards some of the pamphlets left on the table, thinking he'd take a quick glance under them. He shot one look back at where his hook was secure on the edge of the table. It felt weird to leave it behind. He hated the thought of losing the simple length of twine, since a lot of his lifestyle depended on it now.  
  
Jacob paused and scuffed his boot over a nick in the table, a gouge the length of his arm. He raised an eyebrow at it. "Looks like someone got pissed," he mused. The solid wood of the table seemed beyond sturdy, considering it was thicker than his body. The thought of someone marring its surface like that, by _accident_ , was unsettling. Humans were _powerful._  
  
"See anything?"  
  
Sam pushed aside a few pamphlets of his own on the other side of the table, even going as far as to check between the pages. “No,” he sighed. “Nothing.” Standing, he kicked a few to the side, making one sheaf of paper float down and slide over close to Jacob. “At least we still have the dresser and the nightstand to check. Stuff falls behind the nightstands here all the time and nobody ever checks them.”  
  
Sam made his way over to Jacob, stepping on the papers cautiously so that they didn’t go sliding and send him flying. He ignored how big the letters were compared to his boots, used to seeing the scale difference after thirteen years spent this size. At 23 years of age, he’d been downsized longer than he’d been human. Compared to the scant 3 years that Jacob had under his belt, Sam was a seasoned veteran at this new life.  
  
He had only reached the edge when he heard it.  
  
The thundering growl of an engine _right outside the door._  
  
Sam’s heart froze. They were far away from any way out of the room. Far from the vent, and up high on a table. “ _Fuck,_ ” he cursed. “We’ve gotta go.”  
  
A car door slammed outside.  
  
“ _Now._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob was doing so good on his first time out without Walt as a chaperone! These little guys just want to get some supplies and get safely back into the walls!
> 
> **Next:** Coming August 28 th 2016 at 9pm est.


	3. Outmatched

The trip to Haven, Kansas wasn’t a long one. Six hours straight from the bar once he’d sobered up in the cool night air. There was no point in getting a room only to leave a few hours later, so Dean just drove straight, stopping at a truck stop to take an hour long car nap when he got too tired to carry on.  
  
The Impala rolled up to the motel not long after ten in the morning. Dean glanced around at the surroundings, brief memories of the past coming back to him now that he had arrived. This motel… _Trails West Motel_ , was the same motel where they’d been attacked.   
  
Where he’d lost Sam.  
  
“Why the hell would dad send me here?” he muttered, green eyes narrowed suspiciously, almost accusingly, at the area.  
  
It was a knife in the gut, every vaguely familiar sight forcing him to relive those dark memories. John hadn’t answered his cell once, as per his usual, so Dean had no answers as to what was going on that needed a hunter in town.  
  
Of course, there was no way to be certain that the text had come from John Winchester, but Dean would bet on it. Bobby would just call and talk to him like a normal person, and his few other friends he talked to never called anymore.  
  
Not that he ever gave them a reason to.  
  
He was just a hunter. Someone to call if you needed an extra hand on a case, someone to watch your back and keep it in once piece, but not someone to hang out with and grab a beer after the job was over. He was too intense, too dark. Too young, and with a weight on his shoulders to rival what any hunter past 50 had hanging over them. Losing his entire family had done that to him.  
  
Dean checked in with only a brief argument about grabbing a room before the regular check-in time. This was a good motel for truckers to stop, and truckers would try to drive at night whenever possible, when the hustle and bustle of the busy highways died down to the occasional car speeding by. The cranky receptionist must have nothing better to do with her time if she was nitpicking his check-in time.  
  
He pulled the Impala around to the back, parking right outside his room, number 142. Twisting the key out of the ignition to shut the car off, he grabbed his duffel from the backseat, pausing to stuff a few extra shirts inside. He’d have to search out a laundromat soon enough to get some clean clothes, but for now he had enough to get by. The rest of his supplies, and a few weapons, filled the duffel bag. One could never be too careful.  
  
Dean paused for a second, pulling out his phone. _One more time…_ It couldn’t hurt to give his dad a call again. Maybe he’d get through for once. Get an answer over why his dad had sent him to this motel full of harsh memories and painful regrets.  
  
The call went to voicemail once more. Dean sighed internally, slinging his duffel over his shoulder as he waited for the message from John to finish its predictable loop.   
  
" _This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean. 866 907 3235. He can help._ "  
  
Dean scowled as he came up to the door. “Hey dad. Guess you’re not checking your voicemail again.” He fumbled with the doorknob while he talked, shoving it open the moment the lock clicked. “Look, if you could at least let me know why I’m supposed to be here, that’d be great. Really. At least let me know if you’re okay! Anything, even just a text from your phone.”  
  
The message finished, Dean snapped his phone shut, frustrated beyond belief by his father. Letting the door slam closed behind him, he tossed his duffel onto the bed and stalked over to the table, dropping his keys and phone down with a sigh as he stared into space, his mind beset by memories.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob had never slid down his climbing rope so quickly before, but Sam's warning didn't need repeating. After the growl of that engine cut off, there was a thunderous slam, muffled only by the door of the motel, as the car door shut. A single voice could be heard, complaining angrily on the phone. Jacob couldn't help but glance aside as he slid downwards.  
  
Before him was a door that was almost too big to seem real. Jacob couldn't help but feel so hopelessly _small_ as a shadow blocked some of the light leaking in around the worn piece of wood. Sam's voice remarking how few steps it took a human to get anywhere clamored in his head. Hanging from the table, the two of them were in the most vulnerable positions they could possibly be.  
  
Jacob made it down to the floor at almost the same time as Sam, a stark contrast to how much time it had taken him to get up the rope. With a clumsy flick, he knocked his hook back down and turned to run along with his adopted brother, coiling up the twine as he went. He practically dove under the safety of the bed.  
  
It wasn't a moment too soon, because after briefly fumbling with the lock, a _human_ entered the room.  
  
The man was _huge._ Jacob had only ever seen humans from the safety of the walls, and even then he'd only had the nerves to catch a glimpse of them here and there. Now, he and Sam were stuck in the room with one. Jacob flinched visibly when the door slammed, shaking the ground beneath their boots. There was a rush of air and a ringing sound lingering in his ears, a chaotic noise over the pounding of his own heart.   
  
They were sealed in the room with a gigantic human.  
  
Jacob stared down, wide-eyed, as the floor continued to shake under him. The rhythmic _boom, boom_ of the human's irate steps shook him to the core, reminding Jacob of just how defenseless he'd be against this human. How easily he'd be reduced to nothing if one of those enormous boots stomped down on him.  
  
There was a loud thump and several clatters, and the bed providing their shelter shook. Dust rained down on their heads from the bed frame. Jacob looked up in surprise, his eyes wide. A bag must have been tossed onto the bed. A casual motion that sent more sounds crashing around the small people hidden in the room.  
  
That voice still echoed in his memory even though Jacob had definitely heard a phone snap shut. Now it was easily clear that whoever this guy was, he was _pissed_ at his dad. Even though they only had a clear view of his boots and the cuffs of his worn jeans, his irritation was undeniable in his gait. Something clattered to the surface of the table Jacob and Sam had stood on mere minutes before, casually dropped by the huge man.  
  
Jacob tried to keep his breathing in check. Now was the worst time for panic, but he'd never been this close to the dangers a human presented. Every motion was so much bigger than they could fight against. They were stuck until he wasn't looking. And even then, they still had an open space to cross before they reached true safety.   
  
Jacob was afraid.  
  
He looked frantically at Sam, absently stuffing his grappling line in his bag and fastening the clasp tight. It was meant to give his hands something to do so they didn't shake, but they did anyway. His hand brushed over the long iron nail fixed to the outside of his bag with a leather loop. It was the only weapon he had, and Jacob couldn't help but notice how inadequate it'd be.  
  
Jacob shuddered when he glanced once at the human, but then looked back to Sam. He had to know what they should do.  
  
Sam held a hand out, gesturing for silence as he sized up the situation. The human wasn't moving, both boots turned away from the small brothers hiding under the bed. Deciding he needed to know more, Sam cautiously slunk up to the edge, assessing their unaware enemy.  
  
And the human needed to _stay_ unaware if they were to survive.  
  
The man was tall, one of the tallest humans Sam had ever seen. He wore a long leather jacket with various scuffs and wear marks from age, and faded jeans covered thick, muscled legs that could cover the distance in the room in seconds, ending in powerful boots that might not even notice someone their size. Sam swallowed nervously, his mouth dry. They were ridiculously outmatched here. They needed to get out _now._  
  
Sam backed away, boots shifting silently through the carpet. He motioned Jacob to follow him, leading the way back to the edge of the bed closest to the vent.  
  
"Once we go," Sam whispered, the instructions rushing past his lips, " _do not_ look back. Whatever you do, you need to _keep running._ I don't care what you hear or what you feel, it'll cost you time, and that's all it takes if he hears us. Now, wait for my motion, and run. Like you've never run before." Sam met Jacob's rich brown eyes with a serious expression.  
  
Fear looked back, but Jacob's look hardened with determination. If it were possible, his hand tightened on the strap of his satchel and he already felt the adrenaline pumping into his veins in preparation for the run ahead. It'd be a mad dash for the wall. A short enough distance, he had to convince himself. Easy.  
  
He tensed just before Sam motioned to begin the run.   
  
And then they were off like shots.  
  
Sam darted out ahead, his speed far greater than Jacob's. Jacob poured on the speed, his legs moving faster than he thought they'd ever done before. He was inches behind Sam. The bag thumped against his side, out of sync with his frantic heartbeat. The distance seemed to stretch out forever in front of him, and meanwhile Jacob knew that human was just behind them.  
  
Mere _steps_ away, for him. He could cover this distance in less than a second. Jacob's heart fluttered with fear, and he had to fight hard to resist the temptation to glance back and look up to see if the human was looking their way.  
  


* * *

  
Eventually, Dean tore his eyes away from the table. He needed rest, and there was no point in living in the past more than he _already_ did. He might as well turn on some tv, order a bite to eat and...  
  
Movement caught Dean's eyes the moment he turned.  
  
His colt was out in a flash. Was this a trap? Was that why he hadn't recognized the number on his phone?  
  
Zeroing in on the source, Dean was around the bed in a flash. His eyes widened at the sight of a small...   
  
_Person?_  
  
A guy that didn't even stand four inches tall was running for the vent like a bat out of hell.  
  
"Oh, no you don't," Dean muttered to himself. If this was what he was supposed to be hunting, there was no way he was letting it escape.  
  
Two steps cleared the rest of the distance between them. Bending over, Dean swept the small person off the ground only half a foot from the vent. It put an abrupt halt to their desperate dash, and a soft yelp of terror escaped a tiny set of lungs.  
  
He was too busy staring down at the strange person he’d found to notice a shadow peering out at him from the vent.  
  
"What the hell _are_ you?" Dean asked himself as he straightened. He tucked his colt away while he talked, clicking the safety back on out of habit. It vanished back into his jeans, out of sight under his shirt.  
  
With that done he could turn his full attention to his strange capture. The small person was trapped in his fist, only his head and shoulders visible. Something sharp poked Dean's palm. With a frown, he shifted his grip, freeing a... _Nail? How the hell did that get there?_  
  
Dean plucked it free, dropping it on the ground once it was out of his hand. That done, he could close his fingers around the frantically squirming little person once more.  
  


* * *

  
Sam almost kicked the vent out of sheer frustration. One second, Jacob was behind him. The next, gone. It had all happened so fast that Sam never even realized his adopted brother was lagging behind before the floor trembled behind them and Sam was diving through the slits in the vent, getting to safety.  
  
He stared up at the massive human that had his brother in hand while the nail, Jacob’s only hope of defense, dropped to the carpet. "I'll get you out of this, Jacob."  
  
Sam swallowed, knowing he was outmatched. "Somehow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone might want to tell Dean that he's got Sam's adopted brother in his hand asap.
> 
> **Next:** Coming August 30 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Leave a review or comment to let us know what you think!


	4. Capture

Jacob's lungs burned. He swallowed a noise of alarm for the definite shaking in the floor that meant the human was moving. All he could do was keep running and pray that they hadn’t been seen already.  
  
Maybe the human was walking away from them. Maybe he was just going to flop onto one of the beds and rest after checking in. Maybe he was going to the bathroom, or to check the mini fridge. Maybe the steps shaking the ground didn't mean he'd spotted them. Maybe--  
  
"Oh, no you don't," rumbled out overhead and shattered Jacob’s wishful thinking to pieces. He could hear the gasp of surprise lingering in the enormous voice as it echoed around them.  
  
More than that, Jacob could hear the growl of anger lingering there, too.  
  
His heart was already fluttering with fear, knowing he had huge eyes watching his every move. Even without Sam’s uncanny ability to tell when a human looked his way, Jacob knew who that anger was directed at. He still didn't allow himself to look back, just like Sam said, but he felt another boot slamming into the floor and a bolt of fear shot through his stomach and raced up his spine.   
  
Another step, and a shadow slid over him.  
  
Sam was already there. Jacob could make it in less than a second. The vent was less than a foot away, just several desperate strides. He just needed to slip into the wall before the human took one more step. He ignored the air rushing at him from behind, focused purely on what rushed past him from the front. Only on what meant he was running, _escaping_ the human whose shadow had already caught him.  
  
At first, Jacob wasn't sure what slammed into him from behind. Something leathery but with some give to it crashed into his back and swept him forward. Enormous fingers and a thumb snaked into his vision and Jacob knew he'd been struck by the palm of a _giant hand._  
  
His feet were off the ground before the grip even solidified around him. Jacob tried to twist and flail his way out of range of the grasping digits, but they were too lightning fast for him. First, the longest of them, definitely longer than he was tall, knocked into his torso. Then, the ring finger sporting a thick silver ring pressed into his stomach, pinning him securely to the palm and knocking the wind right out of his lungs in the meantime.  
  
The thumb and other fingers were quick to follow, coiling around Jacob’s body and sealing him in the human's grasp, all in less than half a second. His head and shoulders were free, and Jacob had to duck as he shot upwards through the air. The ground dwindled away below his trapped, squirming body.  
  
The human's voice asked something, and in addition to hearing it growl out overhead, Jacob realized he could _feel_ it in the hand surrounding him. He could feel the pulse of a gigantic heart, and he could feel the faint twitches of the muscles that now controlled his movement, stifling every one of his struggles as if Jacob wasn’t moving at all.  
  
Jacob couldn't focus on any of those things, because a flash of something shiny caught his eye as the human lifted him to full height. _A gun?! Is he crazy?_ Even as the gun was effortlessly clicked into safety mode and tucked out of sight with movements that were unthinking for the human, Jacob shuddered from the sight of it. Even the handle of that thing was bigger than he was. Such a weapon would leave _nothing_ if it was fired at someone Jacob's size.  
  
Why did the human think he needed a _gun_ to capture someone less than four inches tall?!  
  
Jacob squirmed when his upward motion came to a stop at last. He was forced to look at a huge face that filled his vision, no matter how much he tried to balk and rear away from the frown forming there. Intense green eyes stared right through him, freckles covering the human’s nose in a dusting that was easy to see at his size. The huge eyebrows were furrowed, making the expression on the man’s face more foreboding. His life was in complete control of an _angry_ giant.   
  
All because he couldn’t run just a little faster.  
  
He sucked in a surprised breath when the grip shifted around him. His lungs were no longer restricted in the tight grasp of the human’s quick grab, but Jacob caught a glance downward and was almost dizzied by the drop. It stretched nauseatingly into an even greater distance if he looked, so Jacob returned his focus to the hand around him, and the fingers that easily manipulated his movements.  
  
His attempts to push them away with his hands were all but ignored. Jacob's desperate kicks were countered by a single pinkie finger, and the human's thumb held him pinned by the torso while another enormous hand approached. Whatever it had planned, the cold, concentrated frown on that enormous face couldn't mean anything good. Those intent eyes dilated as the human regarded him.  
  
Jacob tried to twist away from it, but he had nowhere to go, and simple nudges from the hand holding him kept him in place. An enormous thumb and finger closed around the end of the nail fixed to his bag, yanking it away in a rough motion that might have torn the leather loop.  
  
His heart almost stopped with fear at the disinterested frustration that crossed the huge face before him when the human observed the nail. Jacob might be strong enough to run that weapon right through the human's hand, but it was worthless to him now. It dropped out of sight when the human let go of it, lost to Jacob as a resource in any potential escapes. His only weapon, gone.  
  
The hand closed around him again, once more sealing Jacob off. However, this time, the thumb thicker than his body reached across to his arm, easily prying under it. While his body was squashed into a fist once again, Jacob's arm was forced up at an angle, leaving it free of the fist. He grimaced from the strain on his shoulder.  
  
His bag was pressed into him, the items within crushing together. Jacob tried to take deep breaths but he couldn't, either from hyperventilation or from his constricted torso. He'd believe both. Fear rattled around his brain and he stared in terror at the human.  
  
He flailed the free arm uselessly for a second, finding his range of motion reduced thanks to the fact that the rest of him remained hopelessly stuck. Jacob frowned and planted his palm on the huge digit in front of him, scrabbling against it and pushing for all he was worth.  
  
Jacob had to _try_ to escape. He owed it to Sam and the others. Every second he was caught was another second the human might realize there were more like him, and possibly go looking. Everyone could be captured and it'd be Jacob's fault.   
  
So he struggled despite the futility of it.  
  


* * *

  
With the small person firmly in hand, Dean took a moment to check over his catch. For all intents and purposes, it just looked like a normal human, past the fact that it couldn't reach four inches in height. He shifted his hand around, staring at all angles and once even glancing at the small boots that just barely showed out of the bottom of his fist.  
  
 _This_ can't _be what dad sent me here to hunt,_ Dean thought to himself, his heart falling a little at the sight. It was just a kid! And so far the kid hadn't done anything remotely dangerous to him; he’d only tried to run away when Dean caught sight of him. The sheer terror on the small face made him cringe inside, but he refused to let that show, keeping a mostly dispassionate expression as he stared down at it.  
  
After spending his entire life hunting, Dean knew better than to go on first assumptions. He needed to know more about whatever it was. No wings, so fairy was out of the question. He had to give a slight laugh at the thought. _Friggin' fairies in a motel room, that would be something._   
  
Leprechauns were from Ireland, and the kid he had didn't look like he'd been near the Emerald Isle in generations, based on his darker hair and eyes. He lacked the complexion of the Irish as well.  
  
Distantly curious, Dean shifted his thumb under the slim arm, ignoring its tiny pushes against his fingers and propping it up. Exactly like a human... four fingers and a thumb, almost too small to make out, clenched with fear when Dean moved the arm. With his thumb, Dean lightly tugged the sleeve down, revealing a muscular arm. Despite the muscles, he could see how fragile those bones would be if he made a mistake here. He could practically snap them by accident. Every second he stood there with a person so small trapped in a fist made him feel more and more like Godzilla.  
  
He could feel the tiny body trying to twist free, trying to kick its way out of his grasp. It didn’t have any effect. Whatever he’d found, it was too small to escape his hand.  
  
Dean snorted at the futility of the meager movements. "Struggling's not gonna do you any good, there, half-pint," he pointed out dryly. With his other hand, he briefly closed two fingers over the arm he'd freed, amazed at how perfectly formed it was. He could feel miniscule tendons flex with surprise as it was suddenly contained within digits bigger than the kid was tall. The kid tried to tug his arm back, but he didn’t have a favorable angle for it.  
  
"You and me are gonna have a little talk, I think. If you _can_ talk." Dean let the arm go and eyed up the table. That would work.  
  
Jacob tried to pull his arm back closer to himself, but with the huge thumb there propping it up he couldn't move it very much. He still felt the phantom pinch of enormous digits closing around his arm, thick, creviced skin brushing against his own. His best try at getting his arm free was wasted effort; the human could have held onto the arm as long as he wanted regardless of Jacob's reaction. The thought sent a new chill of fear through him.  
  
He shuddered at how casually the human moved him around, even with just one or two fingers. Like any resistance he might offer wasn't even really there. To a human this huge, it might as well not be. Jacob was confronting, up close and terrifying, just how much scale he'd really lost. That curse had reduced him to an inconsequential thing in this human's hand, to be manipulated with ease and stared at with disregard for the terror on his face.  
  
His stomach was still churning. Being turned this way and that, even sideways so the human could look over every one of his few inches, lingered in his mind. He had been shifted around like some intriguing toy the human found on the ground. An object of curiosity, and not a person who still struggled to escape the constricting grip of the hand.  
  
That almost disinterested glare remained on the huge face in front of him. The human continued examining him, still shocked at his find. Jacob remembered the gun and shivered again, twisting and squirming and trying to free his arm from the way the thumb propped it up.  
  
The laughter and derisive words still hung in the air. The human assured him with a few words and a continued firm grip on his body that his attempts to escape were completely pointless. Jacob knew that, but he didn't give up anyway. He certainly did not want to have a "little talk" with the human, because he knew exactly what questions would be dropped on him. Jacob had no intention of revealing anything more, since he'd already revealed his own existence.  
  
The first footstep towards the table made Jacob's breath hitch. He was flying through the air in that human's grasp, so high up. That single stride covered so much distance. Jacob glanced back, trying to see the vent he'd nearly escaped to. It was quickly eclipsed by the wall of a human as the giant turned, undoing all of his progress of the last several minutes. Each footfall shook all the way through the hand holding him captive.  
  
Jacob continued to struggle against the human until they reached the table. His free arm still scrabbled against the thumb holding it up, and his body was tense. Jacob looked up at the human's face again, searching for signs of what would happen next.  
  


* * *

  
Sam backed away from the vent, shaking in shock from what he'd seen. Jacob was almost lost against the massive human, his head barely sticking up from the huge fist from Sam's point of view. The human could do whatever he wanted, and neither of them could do a thing against him. Sam's knife would do him as much good as Jacob's nail had, dropping to the floor before Jacob had a chance to even _think_ about using it. The human didn't even seem to realize it belonged to Jacob... it had been discarded just like a piece of garbage, dropped onto the floor to either be cleaned up later or left for the maids.  
  
Clenching his fist, Sam whipped around and ran. The human was at the table, out of sight from his point of view. He needed to see what was going on. He needed to know if Jacob was alright.  
  
There was a vent above the room. If he could get to that passage, he'd be able to see if his adopted brother was hurt, or... Sam shoved any thought of that from his head. Jacob would be okay. Sam would save him, whatever it took. Everyone dropped their guard at some point.  
  
He just needed to be ready for the human to drop his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first encounter is just going swimmingly...
> 
> Jacob agrees that the gun is just overkill, Dean. Seriously. He is but a smol kid.
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 1 st 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Leave a comment or review to let us know what you think! <3


	5. Taking Matters Into His Own Hands

When Dean reached the table, he paused, glancing it over. Motel pamphlets detailing the sights and attractions of Haven, Kansas covered most of it. Tucking the hand coiled around his small captive close to his chest, Dean leaned over the table. The various papers were collected into a pile that he stacked on the opposite side, leaving a menu for a local pizzeria that offered a delivery service on top. He hadn't eaten since the bar the night before and after the long drive, the ache of hunger was already creeping up on him.  
  
Brushing his keys and phone to the side cleared the rest of the space he'd need. Dean took a seat in the closest chair, releasing the tiny captive on the table just a second later. The little guy gave a startled gasp and dropped in a heap on the surface.  
  
It was surreal to watch such a small person, perfectly proportioned in miniature, pick himself up on the solid surface of the table. An endless fascination welled up inside of Dean. It was as though an action figure, one clad in a black hoodie and jeans, had simply sprung to life in front of him, tiny hands pushing the small body up from where it had landed. There was even a perfectly proportioned bag on his side, held closed by a near-invisible clasp.   
  
Before the kid had the chance to catch his balance and think about darting off, Dean leaned in. His arms were positioned on either side so the tiny person was corralled in the middle. He couldn't afford the little guy escaping before he knew what the _hell_ was going on at the motel. For the moment, his hands rested on the table in a relaxed position, waiting for the smaller man to make a move. If the kid made one wrong move, they would spring up and seal around him in an instant.  
  
"So," Dean started gruffly, ready to begin his interrogation. He narrowed his eyes. "Can you talk? Or understand what I'm saying?"  
  
Jacob got to his feet despite his shaking knees and jelly like legs. All of the tension of preparing to bolt fled immediately when he noted that the arms settled powerfully around him were thicker than he was tall. He was blocked in with a human leering down at him. Those huge green eyes were narrowed and the questions, so demanding and loud, made Jacob flinch as if they struck him in the face.  
  
His heart wouldn't crawl down from where it had settled. The rapid motion of the human sitting and then all but dumping Jacob onto the table took its toll on his breathing and pulse. Both were faster than they should be.   
  
Not that the human noticed or cared.  
  
Jacob's shoulders bunched up a little with fear and he glanced to the sides. Trapped. The arms might as well be brick walls for all the good Jacob would be trying to run at them. All the human had to do was shift a little and he'd knock Jacob on his ass. It'd be easy. Hardly requiring any conscious effort to do it.  
  
Jacob wanted to turn and look if there was an avenue of escape somewhere behind him, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the glare that loomed over him, forcing him to tilt his head back just to look at the human's face. He stumbled back a few steps anyway, shrinking back under the weight of the intimidation radiating off that huge expression.  
  
Getting no response, Dean considered his options. He needed to know if the little guy was a threat. After all, monsters hid among humans all the time. It was certainly possible that if a person four inches tall existed, they could be a monster. With nothing more to go on than fearful expressions and a wary demeanor, Dean would have to take matters into his own hands.   
  
Again.  
  
The small person had a bag. It wasn't very large, but weapons could come in all sizes, not to mention poisons. Someone four inches tall would have an easy time sneaking into a room to plant a poison on a person. That thought made Dean think of a ninja. A tiny ninja wearing a black hoodie and trying to keep out of sight. He couldn't quite stop a smile at the thought, and the brief expression made the little guy blink, as if he didn’t quite believe he’d seen it.   
  
Moving one hand, Dean reached towards the tiny person again, aiming to pinch the tiny bag between two fingers. He might be able to find some answers inside. Answers that might explain why Dean had been sent back to this town of regret.  
  
Seeing one of those arms moving was like watching a train shifting around. Huge, unstoppable, and potentially deadly. Jacob was almost in awe until the hand moved closer with its thumb and one huge finger closing in, and suddenly there was a grip pinched on his bag.  
  
His supplies were tucked away inside. Everything that Jacob owned was pinched in a pair of giant fingertips, the leather easily gripped by the thick skin. Jacob was already in a lot of trouble. He couldn't help but think of how much worse his chances would be without that bag. With that in mind, his hands almost automatically closed around the strap in a surprised action, while at the same time he tried to flinch away from the human's hand.  
  
He regretted his decision almost immediately when the hand lifted straight up, effortlessly taking the bag and _Jacob_ with it. If he hadn’t grabbed onto his bag, the human would merely have taken it away. This was not a better scenario. A yelp of surprise escaped him when his feet left the table behind. Wind whipped at him and he rose so fast that letting go became a bad idea startlingly quickly.  
  
Breathing heavily, Jacob turned his head to the side while his hands grasped desperately at the bag. He was dangling right in front of those eyes. Just a second ago he thought he'd seen a fleeting smile on the huge face, but now, warped by the haze of his terror, Jacob could only see annoyance, irritation, anger. Jacob couldn't imagine that he would get away with such a bold (if accidental) move.  
  
"Whoa!" The expression on Dean's face dropped into shock. The last thing he'd expected was the small guy to come _with_ the bag like that. He hadn't even noticed the addition to what he'd intended on grabbing until the guy was dangling in front of his face. _Now with Kung Fu action grip,_ Dean mused. Seriously. That had to be a grip of iron to hold on so tight.  
  
His other hand came up instinctively, hovering underneath the small boots. "Watch it!" he couldn't stop himself from blurting. "You're gonna get yourself _hurt_ pulling a stunt like that!" He had no idea what made him say it, past the fact that the sight of how terrified the tiny guy was made the big brother instincts in him rear up out of nowhere. He got a confused, harried look in return, and still couldn’t tell if the little guy understood him.  
  
Unless he proved without a doubt this person was hurting people, Dean had no intention of actually injuring him. Killing the wrong person was unforgivable in Dean's opinion. Assuming that this kid - this tiny, helpless-seeming kid - was a monster just because he'd received a text from an unknown number...   
  
Dean couldn't find it in himself to do it.  
  
He could feel his father's disapproval in the back of his mind. All of John Winchester's lessons had coached that if it was supernatural, it was dangerous. A part of Dean, the part that had listened to Bobby talk about weighing _all_ the options, and not letting assumptions control you, was keeping him from following those darker words and just killing the guy.  
  
Dean raised his hand closer, barely half an inch from the dangling feet. "C'mon, let go."  
  
Jacob didn't answer or comply right away. His eyes were wide and he was still trying to decide if he'd actually heard concern somewhere in that booming voice. The noise had rattled through his core, and Jacob was still stunned by the outburst.  
  
He managed to tear his gaze away from the human's eyes and glance down. A large, powerful hand waited just below his boots. A lifeline almost as long as he was tall stretched across it. Jacob's heart fluttered and he drew up his legs in surprise, remembering exactly what it felt like to be constricted completely in that hand. Indecision gripped him just as tightly now.  
  
The human would clearly get his way in the end. Jacob didn't have any reasons to be defiant. But it wasn't defiance that kept his hands clamped around the strap of his bag. He wasn't sure what did it, but his nerves locked up his grip even as they made his arms shudder.  
  
He glanced up at the bag, pinched overhead by the other hand. The perspective was enough to make his deep breath halt right in the middle. He side-eyed the human and frowned, no idea what to do with the situation he'd been thrown into. The advice that normally played on loop in his head was gone.  
  
There was no advice from Sam or Walt that would help him now.  
  
One of his hands slipped and Jacob gasped, kicking his legs in sheer surprise from the shift in his weight. He tried to get his hand back on the strap, but it felt like it was made of jelly too, now that its tension was gone. _Just let go,_ he berated himself. _Maybe he'll go easy on you._   
  
But Jacob couldn't bring himself to drop onto the waiting hand.  
  
Dean sighed at the sight of the kid’s desperate struggles, guilt rising up in him while the guy tried to curl into a ball around the bag and reestablish his grip on the strap. “I’m not planning on _hurting_ you,” he pointed out. “Otherwise, why would I even bother talking to you?” He still had no idea if the guy spoke, or even understood english.  
  
The fear he got in response decided him. Dean reached up with his other hand, gently wrapping the fingers around the small form to pull him off the bag. Before Dean could even attempt to tug, the guy’s hands sprang open, like he’d been startled away from the bag. “See? Not completely awful, right?” Dean asked reassuringly while the little guy pushed on his grasp with those small hands. “I just need to figure out what you are and if there’s more of you around.”  
  
He put the bag carefully back on the table, then glanced around the room. Spotting a vase full of fake flowers, Dean snatched it off the dresser. He dumped the flowers onto the ground next to his chair, trying to shake out any dust from the inside. Blowing it out, Dean judged it a good temporary container for his captive. At least until he knew what was going on, it would be safer to keep the little guy in one place.  
  
The tiny kid must have figured out what Dean planned, because his little struggles picked up while Dean worked.  
  
Lowering the captive back down, Dean released him and dropped the vase over his head. Though he lifted his little hands in surprised defense, the vase kept coming, trapping him inside of a clear glass prison with a resounding _thunk_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interaction has started! ...Well, sorta.
> 
> Dean's talking, and Jacob's not answering. Add that to the fact that he looks like a lost teenager, and Dean's currently torn between his hunter instincts, and his long-dormant big brother instincts. 
> 
> Which are gonna win out? O.o
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 4 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Leave a comment or review to let us know what you think!


	6. Jacob's Bead

Jacob couldn’t help flinching and covering his head from the sound of that vase slamming down around him. The sight of something so much bigger rushing down upon him in the human’s powerful hands sent a flutter through his heart and his nerves, and he was glad the aim wasn’t to crush him.  
  
It was all so _fast_.   
  
He turned his head this way and that, mixed emotions battling for dominance on his face. Fear, annoyance, confusion ... he wasn't sure what to do. He just kept getting further and further into trouble.  
  
He edged forward and brushed a hand along the glass wall of his prison. Things were closed in. Confining. He could hear his breathing echo in the clear chamber if he listened really hard. Or maybe it was the human's breathing, muffled by the glass. Jacob looked warily up at the huge face, now warped through the glass. His hand dropped to his side and his brow knitted into a frown.  
  
He was strong. He might actually be able to push the vase to the edge of the table if he strained. Jacob's eyes found his bag, sitting on the other side of the glass, far from him. Within easy reach of the human that went to the trouble to take it away from him. His grappling line, one of the only ways off the table was tucked away in there.  
  
Dean watched the little guy examine his prison, memorizing the sight of those extra-small hands brushing against the edge of the glass as though searching for a weak spot. Of course, nothing happened, so Dean decided to let him be for a bit. There was still no response to any of the questions he’d asked, not even enough to tell if he understood what Dean was saying and just couldn’t speak.  
  
Jacob pursed his lips. All those assurances that the human wouldn’t hurt him were completely cancelled out by the close scrutiny he found himself under.  
  
Jacob's hands became fists at his sides and he stepped back from the wall of glass in front of him. He looked back up at the human, trying to wear a mask of distrust and defiance over his fear. He couldn’t hide all of it.  
  
“Get comfy,” Dean informed the small guy in his gruff voice. “Until I figure you out, you’ll be sticking around.”  
  
He reached forward again, scooping up the tiny bag into his hand. It really was amazing craftsmanship… far more detailed than anything he’d ever seen used for dollhouses. Dean held it close to his eyes, trying to see all the little details on it. A single strap kept the flap of the bag closed, sealed with what looked like a metal clasp. The smallest metal clasp he’d ever seen in his life.  
  
Dean nudged the strap with a finger, noting that the clasp was sealed tightly. If he tried to pull on it, he’d rip the bag with a strength that he was realizing he held in distinct advantage over the smaller person.  
  
Until he knew for sure that the person he’d captured was dangerous, he wasn’t about to just start shredding the small possessions. This bag looked like it was hard to come by, well loved from the small wear marks on it. Not something that Dean could ever replace if the little guy turned out to be innocent.  
  
Dean stood and went over to the first bed in the room to grab his duffel. He tossed it on the other chair at the table while the little guy watched with a wary look on his face. Dean dug around, searching for his first aid kit. Inside, he had a needle that he used to either stitch himself up or to stitch his clothes up. _Someone_ had to make all the hidden pockets he needed on his jackets for his weapons. Bobby had shown him the basics, making sure that Dean was able to handle all of his own clothing. And it was imperative to know how to put in stitches. Some of the injuries he got on a hunt couldn’t be easily explained at the ER.  
  
Pinching the small bag again, Dean dropped it into the center of his palm. It was so small… he was starting to understand the fear he’d gotten from the kid when he’d first grabbed him. This just highlighted how tiny he was compared to Dean.  
  
His tongue stuck out while he worked, forehead crinkled in concentration. It was tough to see if he was getting the clasp undone, but Dean stuck it out. He’d done far more tedious things in life. This was nothing. While he worked, he could see the little guy shifting in the corner of his eye, moving a little closer to watch the progress.  
  
Soon, the strap loosened, falling away from the tip of the needle. Dean let out a small noise of triumph, pinching the edge of the flap to open the bag.  
  
The opening was small, and made Dean feel ridiculously outsized when he discovered that he couldn’t really fit two fingers inside to pull out the contents. “Son of a _bitch,_ ” Dean cursed to himself, shifting the bag so something fell between the tips of his fingers that he could get in.  
  
Pulling it out, he found himself holding a length of twine. “Whoa…” he muttered, stretching it out along his hands. Twisted up to form a sturdy length of string, at the end was a hook. Dean held that up to his eyes, surprised to see that the metal had been _bent_ to make it into a hook.  
  
Setting that to the side, he reached into the bag again. This time, he had to nudge it on its side, making the items inside shift until some copper wires and… Dean picked up a silver hook, rubbing at the dust that caked it. The dark glimmer of a ruby winked at him as he did, making Dean’s eyes widen. An earring. What could the guy be doing with an earring like this?  
  
Dean leaned in, focusing back down on the small guy. “Did you _steal_ this?” he asked disapprovingly. Something in him _wanted_ the fragile little guy to be innocent, but theft meant the case would be taking several steps back.  
  
Jacob knew it was coming as soon as the glimmering silver fell out of his bag. He could do nothing but watch the human discover the jewelry in his bag and regretted finding it. He went from sullenly watching the only things he owned get messed with by giant fingers to looking up nervously at the face that leaned closer to him.  
  
Why was the man frowning at him like that? That unreadable face only showed something negative, and it was all aimed at Jacob. Jacob, trapped under glass with nowhere to hide from it and nowhere to run. He was so exposed and nervous that the gruff voice sent another shiver up his spine and he stepped backwards warily. Anything to put a little distance between them despite his entrapment. All of his nerves told him to bolt, but Jacob had nowhere to go, and it made him feel like a cornered animal.  
  
Jacob glanced at the tiny earring pinched in those huge fingers, then back at the human, and then past him at the bed. There was no way he could just say _It's a present for my mom._ He would never risk the others for a chance to save his own ass.  
  
So, instead of saying anything, Jacob shook his head quickly and hoped (foolishly, he knew) that that would be enough.   
  
If anything, the frown on Dean’s face deepened and the little guy shrank back a little more. “So you _do_ understand what I’m saying,” Dean surmised. He leaned down further, watching the nervous behavior. If the guy was just like a human, that sheepish expression alone would scream his guilt.  
  
Dean decided to change tactics. He held the earring up next to the glass. “If you didn’t steal it, where did it come from?” he asked, his voice continuing on in the demanding tone he’d adopted for the first question. “Unless you have a very big girlfriend, I don’t think it’s your size.” His brows furrowed. “Or maybe that’s it. You sneak into people's stuff and take things back to your owner. Unless you found a way to shrink yourself and decided to take up petty thievery, steal an earring here, a ring there…”  
  
Jacob bristled, leaning further away from the human and the loud voice. _Owner?!_ The word echoed in his head, the derisive suggestion awakening a quiet anger in him. Jacob didn't _belong_ to anyone but himself. No matter how trapped he was. His hands clenched into fists again, this time to avoid raising them to his ears to cover them from the noise rattling through the glass.  
  
That angry voice made his heart flutter, but despite the fear trying to lock up Jacob’s words, the strange accusations took precedence. If the human thought he was stealing, who knew what he'd do? Who knew what kind of punishment he'd deem appropriate to dish out for a tiny thief completely at his mercy?  
  
This man had absolute power over Jacob's fate.  
  
"I just _found_ it, okay? I found it on the floor! Jesus Christ, I didn't steal anything!" he blurted irritably, before immediately shutting his mouth. A look of surprise washed over his face for his own attitude. He had _not_ meant to sound so aggravated.   
  
And now, he'd yelled at a giant. A giant that had him trapped completely.  
  
Dean’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected voice and attitude. “Well, guess I’ll just have to _un_ find it,” he shot at the little guy, reflecting the same tone of voice right back. The tiny prisoner flinched back in surprise. “Why in the world would you keep something like that anyway? Wouldn’t it just take up space since you can’t use it?”   
  
At the very least, he’d learned that the guy could definitely talk. That was something. And, he reasoned, the ruby had been covered in dust when Dean had taken it out. That level of grime lent credence to the defensive response. It was a lucky find, even if it couldn’t be useful for such a tiny person.  
  
Dean tucked the earring in the pocket of his shirt. For now, he’d save it. If he ever needed fast cash, a ruby like that should pull at least a bit of money at a pawn shop. And really, what could someone the size of his _finger_ do with a piece of jewelry that huge?  
  
Going back to the bag, Dean nudged the bottom, making the last few items tumble out onto the table. A small slip of paper floated out, along with a few copper wires and a tiny lightbulb. Those, at least, made sense to find together, though Dean wondered what the guy used them for. _Does he hook it up to something to get light?_  
  
Then a small glass bead rolled out, tapping against the table in a single bounce before drifting towards Dean. The tiny person under the vase stepped forward, but his prison stopped him. He pressed his hands against the glass to watch the bead roll along. With a frown, Dean pinched it between his fingers. “You find this, too?”  
  
Jacob wanted desperately to go retrieve his bead. He despaired at the sight of it nearly disappearing between the enormous fingertips. What to Jacob was nearly the size of a softball was almost nothing compared to the human.  
  
He vividly remembered it being small enough to pinch in his own fingers like that. Even after three years, the bead was as full of memories as it was before he shrank. Back then, he wore it as part of a necklace, tied with the twine that was now his climbing rope.  
  
Jacob used to brush a fingertip over the bead when he was thinking deeply about something, or when trying to keep calm in a frustrating situation. Now, he simply kept it around, a reminder of something he'd lost. At first, it was a reminder of his dad, who'd given it to him. Now, it was all that and more. A reminder of the entire world he'd lost when he was reduced in size.  
  
And now, a layer of glass separated him from it, as well as an enormous human that would probably never be convinced that it belonged to Jacob. One of the few things he had left that he hadn't had to _scavenge_ just to survive. Because, as he was being reminded repeatedly now, everything was built for people like the human keeping him captive now. Resentment leaked onto his face.  
  
After seeing the human so easily claim the earring, Jacob knew where this was headed. If he said he just found the bead, the human would pocket it too. There was no way to explain that it was more his than anything else in the bag.  
  
Claimed, just like Jacob himself might be claimed now. The human had been callous enough to assume Jacob had an _owner,_ after all.  
  
Why try to give him back?  
  
Jacob's fingers curled, slowly pressing his fingertips against the glass before his hands dropped to his side and he backed off again, refusing to rise to the baiting question. Instead, he shuffled back until he was almost against the far side of the vase, averting his gaze lest the disappointed, frightened, and _frustrated_ scowl draw any unwanted attention to himself. Jacob was stuck. He had no way to _stop_ any of this from happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're talking! Well, they're _sassing_ each other, at least. That's progress, right?
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 6 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Leave a comment or critique to let us know what you think!


	7. Appearances are Deceiving

Dean watched the curious reaction silently as the guy retreated to the other side of the vase. _Was it the bead?_ he found himself wondering. He looked closely at the small bead again, wondering why it had gotten such a different reaction from the earring. It was just a piece of green glass, after all, while the earring had a ruby in it. Dean couldn’t figure out what significance the bead might have.  
  
That was the last interesting item in the bag. The little slip of paper that had floated out when he was prodding at the bag had scribblings that were too small to read, leaving Dean to assume that the little guy had done them himself. Humans wouldn’t be able to write so small, with such a fine tip. The pressure from the pencil alone would be enough to break any lead that thin.  
  
There was no way for Dean to know that his own little brother, Sam Winchester, was the one who’d scripted out the microscopic writing.  
  
He tucked the climbing rope and the other items back into the bag, flipping the top shut. He hadn’t found any weapons at all, so that was something. No poison or anything to point to the tiny person being dangerous. Just some lost jewelry and scavenged items that didn’t have much value if they were taken on their own. The only part Dean took care with was making sure he didn’t just shove the rope into the bag haphazardly. It was such a well made twine, and he had a feeling that it was how the guy got around at only four inches in height.  
  
That taken care of, Dean stuck the bead into the pocket with the earring, followed by the bag. At least until he knew the guy was completely harmless, he needed to keep the rope away so there was no way for him to escape. He couldn’t let his guard down just because the guy looked vulnerable. After all, creatures like changelings hid as small children when they were preying on humans. This kid could yet have something hidden up his tiny sleeves.  
  
With the guy standing at the far side of the vase, Dean reached forward and wrapped his hand around it. The little guy watched with wide eyes as Dean’s hand closed all around him, surrounding the glass barrier separating the two of them, before Dean tugged it a few inches closer. It bumped into the tiny, hoodie-clad kid’s back and knocked him forward, forcing him to stumble along with it.  
  
“Bored of me already, half-pint?” Dean quipped lightly. “Because I still have some questions for you, y’know.”  
  
Coming to a stop, Jacob stood in the middle of his glass enclosure, now closer to the human. He had to tilt his head farther back just to see him. He couldn't help a resentful look for the way he’d been dragged along without a choice, but it was quickly replaced with wariness.  
  
It was unnerving that, when he looked at the pocket on the human's huge chest, he couldn't even see a lump. His bag, his bead, and the earring were all stowed in there. His things, stuffed into a pocket by a human that apparently thought he was some kind of thief.  
  
Easy for the human to throw around accusations of stealing. He'd stolen all the control over Jacob's fate from him without a second thought. If this guy wanted to, he could drop Jacob just as easily into that pocket, never to be seen in the motel again.  
  
Jacob said nothing. He stood his ground despite a slight tremor in his hands. Maybe the human had more questions, but Jacob wouldn’t have many answers for him. There was no way he could put anyone else at risk. He stood there with a wary glare on his face.  
  
“Hey.” Leaning forward, Dean tapped against the glass vase a few times to get the guy’s attention again. “I already know you can talk so this silent treatment crap ain’t gonna do you any good.” Again, he felt ridiculously oversized seeing his finger next to someone so small. A casual tap like that against the kid might end up knocking him over. Hell, a stiff _breeze_ might knock him over.  
  
For a moment, all of the fear evaporated from Jacob’s face, to be replaced by confusion. He frowned. The action didn’t have any effect on his desire to speak to the human holding him captive. The scrutiny and the noise with the human that close had his nerves back in place in no time, but not without Jacob giving the human a look that said _Really?_   
  
Jacob squared his shoulders, took a step forward, and drew a fist back. He punched the glass as hard as he could, defiance and frustration in the action. _See how well this works?_ his expression seemed to say.  
  
Dean was briefly caught off guard by the punch. It showed a spark of defiance he hadn’t expected, to say the least. A small bit of his former playful demeanor rose up in him and he found himself actually grinning for a moment. The angry facade dropped away, letting the Dean he used to be show through.   
  
“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” Dean asked gamely. He tapped right back at the little guy, finger lightly rapping directly opposite where the punch had landed.  
  
Jacob flinched in surprise, the sound of another tap on the glass startling him almost as much as the sudden shift in the giant face in front of him. A _smile,_ a genuine one, lit up the human's expression and a playful tone had leaked into his deep voice.   
  
Jacob glanced side to side, waiting for someone to walk around the corner somewhere and end the joke. His fist was still held up at the ready, but he glanced at it before looking at the glass, unsure if he should even try to punch again.  
  
What was really just a move of pure frustration had somehow been met with amusement, not anger, the way he expected. Jacob hesitantly tapped his knuckles against the glass again, all the vehemence gone from the action. He stepped back a little and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah."  
  
“Guess we’ll have to work on that,” Dean quipped back, still grinning at the light raps against the glass in return for his own tapping. Maybe if the little guy wasn’t afraid of him, he’d get a few more answers to his questions. And most importantly, start to figure out if the kid was dangerous. Any remaining anger Dean had towards John from earlier had evaporated with the strange new mystery he’d discovered, and he found himself feeling hopeful about the case for the first time.  
  
His attention was torn from the captive when his stomach growled, reminding him that the last time he’d eaten had been states away. “ ‘S’cuse me,” he muttered, shifting his chair back.  
  
Letting the small prisoner have a bit of space, Dean grabbed his cell and stood. The little guy watched him rise, tilting his head all the way back. Dean glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Eleven in the morning. Snatching up the pamphlet for the nearby pizza delivery service, Dean was glad to see that lunch started at ten thirty. He’d be able to order some food without ever leaving the room. With his current captive, he didn't want to risk going out of sight.  
  
“I think it’s high time I get some food,” he said to the little guy. “Sit tight, half-pint. I’ll be right back.”  
  
Jacob wasn't sure whether to roll his eyes at the suggestion to _sit tight_ or be intimidated all over again by the human's height. The human turned away with his phone and the pizza place’s menu in hand, and the table rumbled slightly with each step.   
  
Dialing up the number, Dean stalked over to the window, giving the parking lot a brief glance as the call connected.  
  
Jacob frowned. He couldn't summon up food just like that; he and Sam and their adoptive parents had to go looking for whatever scraps they could find, and they always ran the risk of Jacob's exact situation.   
  
Capture.  
  
A faint growl in his own stomach reminded Jacob that he hadn't eaten since sometime yesterday. The food stores back home were nearly depleted. That was why he and Sam had come into the room in the first place. All they'd had time to find was that stupid ruby that almost got Jacob into trouble.  
  
Jacob sighed and almost went to sit, but then paused. He glanced around at the rim of the vase where it met the surface of the table. A thoughtful look crossed his face, and he glanced over at the human. With the man preoccupied with his call to have food conveniently brought right to him, Jacob was certain he had a chance. It was a slim one, but he wouldn't have many.  
  
Get out, get off the table, get under cover. Simple as that.  
  
He squatted by the wall of glass, working his fingers carefully under it. Jacob took a terse breath. Ever since he woke up small, he'd started to notice he was very strong ... he couldn't lift the huge things he used to be able to lift, but he could lift a lot more than even Sam could. His ability came in handy opening tupperwares and containers the others simply couldn't. Jacob had already been to the kitchen once or twice with Walt for that exact reason.  
  
The vase would require a lot more strength than that. Jacob hadn't tested the limits of his ability before. This time, he had to. He took a deep, slow breath, focusing his attention only on his own body and the vase, ready to see if he could match it.  
  
When he let the breath hiss out of his barely parted lips, Jacob hauled upwards as much as he could. He felt the strain in his arms already, and he straightened his back slightly to get a better angle. He shifted one boot, and suddenly a grin came to Jacob's face.  
  
The edge of the vase was _lifting._ All he needed was to lift it high enough to quickly slide under it, and he could try to climb down a table leg before the human noticed.  
  
His heart briefly fell at the thought that he'd be leaving all of his belongings behind. They were sealed away in the giant chest pocket. Invisible from the outside. His bead ... the one thing he had left to remind him of his dad ... it was lost to him.  
  
Jacob might at least have a chance. He had to try.  
  


* * *

  
“I’ll take a large pizza, sausage and pepperoni…” Dean was staring out at the parking lot as he listed off his order. All the crazy that existed out there, and he’d found one of the strangest things ever in his small, rundown motel room that barely looked like it had been vacuumed.  
  
Pacing away from the window while he talked, Dean paused. The vase was… moving?  
  
He saw the edge come up and that was it. Instinct took over. Dean was across the room before it completely registered that the tiny guy, the tiny guy that was smaller than his fingers and had arms that were so thin and fragile, was _lifting it._  
  
Dean’s hand hit the top of the vase and it was ripped out of the guy’s hands, slamming back down to the tabletop. The little guy fell backwards, his face angled upwards in shock. Staring down at the tiny, hoodie-clad figure, Dean finished up the phone call on autopilot. “Yeah… I’m at the Trails West Motel. Room 142. Thanks.”  
  
He snapped the phone shut, tossing it onto the table. His expression was unreadable.  
  
“You’re stronger than you look, half-pint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 8 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Comments and reviews always welcome!


	8. I'm Not A Monster

Jacob's hopes were tentatively on the rise as he slowly lifted the edge of the vase higher. His breathing was strained and his entire body was beginning to shake from the exertion, his pulse pounding in his ears. He might not be able to feel his arms after this, but at least he had a chance of surviving. A slim chance was better than no chance. He might actually make it.  
  
Until the vase was all but ripped from his hands and slammed back into the table.  
  
The sudden loss of resistance sent Jacob sprawling backwards even as the tabletop shook from the impact. He lay on his back, staring up at the huge hand that covered the top of his prison. Jacob had just given it his all and hardly tilted it, while those fingers could tighten on the base and lift the entire thing away from the table with ease.  
  
The cell phone clattered to the table after the human finished his pizza order and startled Jacob into sitting up and scrambling back. It was larger than he was, heavier too. And the human so casually tossed it down like so much litter.   
  
“You’re stronger than you look half-pint.”   
  
The observation made Jacob’s eyes widen. That expression on the man’s face ... Jacob had no idea what it meant, but it was absolutely chilling to behold. High above, staring down at him from the looming height, it felt like he was being appraised just like the moments he spent in the human's fist.  
  
This time, he'd angered the giant for sure. That had to be it. Jacob shook and scooted himself backwards until his back was pressed against the far side of the vase. He still had to crane his neck back just to keep those piercing eyes in his sight. Any traces of the smiling and playful demeanor from before were gone, replaced by ice in those eyes that masked any chance Jacob had of knowing what was on the human’s mind.  
  
 _God. He's gonna kill me for that._  
  
The frightened thought made Jacob shut his eyes tight and duck his head. His shoulders tensed up and he covered the back of his skull with his hands.  
  
It was useless to cower, and it only made him look smaller and weaker, but Jacob didn't have room to care about that. He was terrified all over again. If the human wanted to kill him, he could.   
  
It would be _easy._  
  


* * *

  
The second Sam saw the vase slam down on the table, he was off and running.  
  
He’d been sitting in the upper vent, watching the interaction between Jacob and the massive man that had caught him with cautious hope. It hadn’t been going the way Sam had expected in any way, past Jacob being trapped under a vase. The human even seemed _playful_ for a few minutes, his gruff anger melting from his face when Jacob had angrily punched the wall of glass he was trapped under.  
  
Then came the escape attempt.  
  
Sam’s fists had clenched while he watched the vase lift. It was surreal, seeing his adopted brother lift up a container that was far heavier than either of them. Sam knew for a fact that he’d never be able to budge such a massive object, and neither would Walt. Whatever it was that drove Jacob’s strength, it was his and his alone.  
  
But before Jacob had been able to make good on his escape, he’d been seen. The vase had slammed down with a sound that echoed around the newly-silent room, and now Sam was afraid he’d be punished for his attempt.  
  
So he ran, hoping to get back to the room before Jacob was killed.  
  
He needed to help. Even if it just got him caught.  
  


* * *

  
Dean considered the vase, briefly lifting it up to test the weight. Compared to the tiny guy huddled down on the table in a ball, it had a decent heft. If Dean was that size, there was no way he’d be able to lift it up.  
  
He set it back down on the table. “Guess I need something a little heavier to keep you in place,” he muttered to himself. The little prisoner didn’t change positions at all and Dean turned his focus away for a moment. He combed the room and ended up grabbing the Bible nestled away in a drawer of the nightstand. Setting it on top of the vase, he sat back down in his seat, staring in at the terrified, shaking form.  
  
Terrified of _him_.  
  
“Look,” Dean sighed. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Really. I don’t think trying to escape is a good reason for retaliating. So you can relax.” _I'm not a monster._  
  
He frowned for a moment to himself, realizing he’d never asked _who_ the kid was. He’d been too distracted thinking first the guy couldn’t understand him, then that the guy couldn’t speak. Clearly that was wrong. The kid was acting like a regular human teen. Extra small, but that was it. The closest he’d come was asking _what_ the kid was, without even directing the question to him.  
  
He needed a new approach. One that took the kid’s clear intelligence into account. Otherwise, they’d just go in circles until the sun set.  
  
Dean leaned in a little. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Let’s try again. My name’s Dean. What’s yours?”  
  
Jacob remained in his cowering position, waiting to hear some irritated tap on the glass or some insistence that he speak up. Maybe even for the vase to be dragged along again, pushing Jacob with it. But, the human didn't amend his question with any threatening behavior.   
  
He _waited for Jacob to answer._  
  
Jacob hesitantly moved his arms away from guarding his head, though they remained slightly raised even as he opened his eyes and peeked up.  
  
His focus was distracted from the human for a moment by the shadow hanging over his head. Jacob looked up and his shoulders drooped at the sight of the heavy book sitting atop his prison. Now he really was stuck. There was no way he'd be able to lift the vase _and_ a Bible.  
  
Jacob didn't bother to hide his disappointment or what fear lingered when he looked back out at Dean. At least, even if the guy seemed to believe Jacob might have an owner, he wasn't trying to simply give him a name. Like some kind of freakish talking pet.  
  
"I, uh. I'm Jacob."  
  
He shifted, relaxing a little though his knees were still drawn close to his chest. With his hands resting on the tabletop, Jacob looked up once more. "You're really not pissed off that I tried to leave?" he asked, skepticism in his voice.  
  
Dean nodded back at Jacob, glad he had a name for the face. “Dude, if I was trapped like that, the _first_ thing I’d do is try and find a way out. Wait for my captor to drop their guard and make a break for it.” With a wince, he realized he’d underestimated Jacob just because he was smaller than a human, something he needed to avoid because underestimating _anyone_ could end badly.  
  
Dean gestured at the size of the vase compared to Jacob. It had to be at least two stories high from the kid’s point of view. “I just wouldn’t have as much luck as you with moving it. Whatever you are, and wherever you came from, that’s some impressive stuff. I don’t think I’ve seen a _werewolf_ that could bench that much weight all at once, and those bitches? They’re _real_ bitches when it gets down and dirty.”  
  
Jacob tilted his head and gave Dean a confused look. "Werewolves?! What are you--" he stopped abruptly as he processed the thought. Other than the fondness for the word _bitches,_ Dean sounded completely rational in his musings. And he seemed very open to the possibility of someone like Jacob existing, despite how unreal and supernatural it should seem to him.  
  
Jacob remembered talking to Sam once, shortly after getting his curse. Sam had broken the news that all kinds of nonhuman things went bump in the night. Most of them were harmful to humans, but people like Walt and Mallory clearly weren't like that. Then there were the ghouls, vampires, and _werewolves_. And a whole lot more.  
  
Jacob narrowed his eyes as he thought. Casual acceptance of the supernatural ... snatching Jacob up with a _gun_ drawn as if prepared for any threat ... wanting to know if there were others and if Jacob was dangerous. Jacob's mouth went dry as he remembered something Walt had told him about from his own experiences while he lectured Jacob on the importance of constant vigilance. The pieces were falling together.  
  
Walt had been captured by humans before, too. Humans with a job that made them more dangerous than pest control in some ways.  
  
Jacob's heart fluttered again as he realized who-- _what_ \-- he must be talking to. There was only one thing Dean could be, and it did not bode well for Jacob at all. "Are you ... a-are you a _hunter?_ "  
  
Dean shot Jacob an odd look, surprised to hear the word out of the kid’s mouth. There was an unexpected amount of fear coating each syllable, like he was afraid of the answer. It was like a stab in the side, hearing that. Dean had started hunting to _help_ people. Not to scare some kid that he caught in a motel room.  
  
He straightened unconsciously in his chair. “That’s right. I am.” His voice was proud despite the fear Jacob had shown. “Trained most of my life for it, ever since…” Dean’s throat closed up when he almost said the fateful words _ever since my family was killed._ His mother, pinned to the ceiling, burning alive.  
  
His baby brother, not three feet away. Caught by a white blast and a cackling witch. John had stormed into the room seconds before Dean was caught by a similar blast, slamming into the witch and knocking her away from his eldest.   
  
“... All my life…” Dean finished quietly, the memory of Sam dampening his brief pride. He did what he did for his brother’s memory...   
  
… But what would Sam think of him trapping a kid like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean never became a hunter so he could terrorize people, especially not smol kids... he just wants to do the right thing and _help_ people.
> 
> They _finally_ got past introductions.
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 11 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Leave us a comment or some kudos if you're enjoying the story! It means the world to us to hear from you!


	9. It's a Dirty Job...

Jacob hardly noticed the pause or the way Dean's mood suddenly turned. All he knew was that, sitting up straight in front of him, almost looming over the vase, was a hunter.   
  
He was trapped by a _hunter._   
  
The average human wasn't likely to let him go. But a hunter? Jacob might as well throw out any hopes of Dean releasing him. He wasn’t going home unless he made a miraculous escape, and after that first attempt, he’d be hard pressed to even try.  
  
He knew what hunters did with the supernatural things they found. Jacob may have been born a human, but he could hardly be called human now. He was a small freak, too strong for his body. Not human anymore. Under the vase he was feeling more and more like a trapped animal as the edges closed in around him.  
  
That was why Dean wanted to know if there were more. He would have to hunt them down and trap them, too. And then, once he was sure he'd rounded all of them up ... Jacob clenched his jaw at the thought. He wouldn't let Dean come to that conclusion. Jacob got into this mess, and Jacob would deal with it the best he could. If he couldn't, then he'd be the only one paying for it.  
  
Jacob dragged a hand back through his wavy brown hair. "Okay, so you're a hunter prodigy," he answered, his voice wound up with nerves. He wearily rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "That's. It's great, really. You're just making," he chuckled dryly, " _small talk_ before you do your job. Right?"  
  
That fear again. Dean could hear it loud and clear. Obviously, this kid knew about hunters, and what they did. There was more than one that would have already killed the little guy and set to tracking if there were any others nearby. But not all hunters worked the same, and Dean prided himself on his job. It _wasn’t_ just killing anything that was a little different.  
  
He never wanted to be that kind of hunter. If he ever passed that edge he’d know he’d failed his brother’s memory once and for all. There would be no coming back from that.  
  
Dean leaned in once more. This time when he spoke, his voice was softer. "Jacob," he started, making sure to use the kid's name. No teasing nicknames here. He waited for Jacob to turn his sullen gaze up to him again. "My job is hunting evil. My job is _saving people._ I didn't train all those years, give up a normal life, just to kill anything or anyone that looks a little different. If I find you're hurtin' people, that's one thing. But otherwise, _nothing's_ gonna happen to you."  
  
 _Something already_ has _happened to me,_ Jacob wanted to say. He didn't have the vehemence in him to spit the words out, even though they were true. With or without Dean's nice assurances, Jacob was still trapped. And he'd remain that way until such time as Dean decided he wasn't a threat. Who knew how long that would be?   
  
And what if, even after that, Dean didn't want to let him go?  
  
Jacob wouldn't be able to stop anything this man decided.  
  
He searched those immense green eyes peering in at him for some sign of truth or a lie. Despite the urgency in Dean’s tone when he spoke about his occupation, they remained inscrutable. Expressionless. Impossible to read. Nothing in them told Jacob what his fate would eventually, inevitably be, only that the choice was Dean’s and Dean’s alone.  
  
Jacob let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the glass, his head resting against it with a quiet thump. He stared at the Bible hovering overhead, ensuring that he remained trapped like an animal in the small enclosure. "I'm ... I'm gonna have to try to pretend I believe that because the alternative is just kinda shitty and depressing," he admitted.  
  
Dean nodded. He didn't bother reinforcing what he'd said. Either Jacob believed it or he didn't. Dean might be able to trap him with ease and pick him up whenever he wanted, but he couldn't change the way someone else thought.  
  
There was a knocking at the door. Dean twisted around, briefly confused before he remembered what he'd been doing before Jacob's escape attempt. _That's right,_ he remembered. _Pizza._ His stomach growled at him as though reminding him that they'd had no breakfast yet.  
  
Dean stood, and Jacob felt like it happened in slow motion. It was easier for him to notice how exposed he really was, stuck on the middle of a table with a clear glass prison all around him. Having nowhere to hide unsettled him deeper than he’d ever known before; his instincts as someone that size must have begun to set in, finally, after years of Sam and Walt teaching him.  
  
After checking that the Bible wouldn't move while he was across the room, Dean made his way over to the door. He sent a glance over his shoulder as he dug his wallet out of his back pocket. From this distance, Jacob appeared so small and vulnerable. From the looks of things, he’d curled into himself again in an attempt to look smaller, less noticeable.  
  
He was completely undefended if anyone was to come in and see him. That fact lit a little spark of anger. Until Jacob was determined to be a threat, Dean wouldn't let anything happen to him. It was his responsibility.  
  
Dean opened the door, stepping outside to close Jacob off from sight. "Hey, man," he greeted the delivery boy with a grin. He collected his pizza before heading back in and making a beeline for the table. He couldn't wait to dig in.  
  
Jacob watched Dean, his eyes fixed upwards. His arms were folded on his knees semicasually. When the sight of a human looming over him with a wide box of food wore on him, Jacob tore his gaze away. He rested his chin on his arms again.  
  
As the pizza box was set down on the table near Jacob's vase, he had to glance over to it. He could even see a tiny bit of heat haze over the cardboard. Not a second later, the smell struck him like a physical wall. Jacob's mouth watered and his stomach complained, whining desperately for the food. He drew his legs a little closer as if to hide the sound from himself.  
  
Jacob couldn't remember the last time he'd had pizza. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something that cast a heat haze. For him and Sam, warm food was a luxury of the past. Nowadays they were lucky if they could get to the washing machine coils to heat anything. The opportunity was rare.  
  
With some effort, Jacob managed to ignore the enormous pile of food that was boxed barely a foot away from where he was trapped. He could never allow himself to get his hopes up for food. Food was never guaranteed, one of the first things Walt ever taught him about life at this size.  
  
Dean didn't waste any time once the food was on the table. He unfolded the box, inhaling the heavenly aroma. "That's the stuff," he said appreciatively. _Thank god for early delivery._ Jacob probably wouldn't enjoy any of the options for keeping him trapped if Dean needed to leave the room.  
  
He eyed up Jacob, noting the way the small guy was trying to avoid looking at the pizza. Briefly, Dean wondered how he fed himself at that size. He couldn't exactly order a pizza out, and the motel didn't have fresh fruit dotting the landscape like the outdoors did, and being outside carried its own dangers.  
  
At least for now, Dean could make sure he got to eat. There was no use in starving his captive, especially since they both already knew Dean had the control. It would be heartlessly cruel to exert his power over Jacob that way.  
  
Separating out some napkins, Dean grabbed himself a slice, his mouth watering at the gooey cheese and sauce that covered it. He leaned over, fetching a water bottle from his duffel. A bit poured in the cap would serve for a cup for Jacob. Setting that on a different napkin, Dean slipped out one of his smaller knives and sliced off the end of the pizza. Even that blade drew Jacob’s gaze, and for good reason; it was almost his length.  
  
Carefully gripping the bottom of the vase and the Bible, Dean tilted it up just far enough to slide in the food. With that taken care of, he could eat his fill without feeling guilty of starving the other guy.  
  
Jacob stared at the offerings, waiting for the catch to be revealed. He had been dead _certain_ that he wouldn't be given any food unless he cooperated. Some water for information on what he was, some pizza for revealing the locations of the others. But no, Dean had given him his own portions without any prompting at all. Jacob wasn't sure how to react as the hunter dug into his own slice.  
  
The glint of that knife, almost as long as he was tall, had been easy to react to. A small shudder raced up his spine at the thought of how deadly even Dean's smallest weapon would be to him. The open pizza box, with even more heat and aroma wafting off of it, was easily met with disappointed longing.  
  
Actually getting some of the warm food? Jacob hesitantly uncurled himself and scooted towards the torn bit of napkin he'd been given. He reached out, felt the heat coming off the portion of pizza and then drew his hand back again. Accepting food like that from a human ... would that be letting Dean _feed_ him? Jacob couldn't help but wonder if he'd be crossing some kind of threshold.  
  
His stomach yowled at him imploringly. Jacob clenched his jaw. _What the hell._ If Dean decided to keep him or kill him in the end, it wouldn't matter if Jacob took whatever food the human gave him. It wasn't as though the others would ever know anyway. He dragged the napkin closer to himself and picked up the overlarge piece of pizza in both hands. The warmth traveled down his arms.  
  
The warmth bloomed in his empty stomach, too, after taking a bite. There was a burst of flavors Jacob hadn't known for three years. The takings at the motel tended to be plain. Something as seasoned as pizza sauce was completely off the menu.  
  
Jacob glanced up at Dean. "Thanks," he said, trying not to let his gloomy mood weigh down the gratitude. Dean didn't have to give him any food. They both knew that. But he had, and Jacob appreciated it.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Dean said, hiding his surprise at the gratitude. Where normally he might reply “Don’t mention it,” or “No problem,” clearly this wasn’t the time or place for such a laid back response. Jacob had no reason to thank his captor after Dean had trapped him and was _keeping_ him trapped, and that was saying a lot more about the little guy than any questions Dean could ask.  
  
Disturbed by his thoughts, Dean ate through his own portion of pizza, unable to keep his gaze from drifting over to Jacob from time to time. The bit of pizza he’d given the guy was barely a bite for Dean, but was almost the size of Jacob’s torso. Small hands that worked perfectly, just like Dean’s, lifted it up carefully to eat. Movements that were familiar to Dean but in miniature. He couldn’t help but find it just as fascinating as when he’d first captured the kid.  
  
Starting on a second slice, Dean frowned to himself. More and more, this entire setup was bothering him. Why was he here? Was it just to hunt down some kid, who didn’t seem any different past his size and a little extra strength? Jacob might be able to lift up a vase, but he hadn’t been able to stop Dean from closing his hand around him. The strength in those small arms was still not enough to keep Dean at bay. None of his struggles had done anything to stop the hunter from catching and trapping him.  
  
Was that it? Just because Jacob wasn’t human, had someone decided he didn’t deserve to live? Just text Dean, point him at a hunt. He’ll take care of it, he always does. That’s all he was, after all.   
  
Just a weapon, a soldier to be pointed at the nearest supernatural target.  
  
It wouldn’t be the first time John had used him to do the dirty work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a dirty job...
> 
> ...But someone's gotta do it.
> 
> These two dorks sitting around eating pizza together. Dean just has no idea that Jacob's pretty much family for him. 
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 13 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Leave us a comment to let us know what you think!


	10. To The Rescue

It would be hard to miss the glances that came his way, but Jacob did his best to ignore Dean. He was basically on display; stuck under the glass like that, anyone could look in and gawk at him. At least there was only one human to deal with. It made it slightly easier.  
  
Only slightly, since that one human was also a _hunter_ , but Jacob would take what he could get at this point.  
  
He ate his pizza slowly, savoring every bit of it. When the distantly familiar feeling of being _full_ settled in his stomach, he set what remained back on the napkin and wiped off his hands. There was so much food after he was finished. Sam, Walt, and Mallory could all eat just as well off that portion, and there _still_ might be leftovers.  
  
Even though Jacob had no idea if he'd ever see them again, he kept that in mind when he reached out and lifted the edges of the napkin piece, nudging his capful of water onto the surface of the table. He carefully tucked the paper around the remaining pizza, Mallory’s familiar mantra of _waste not_ echoing in his head.  
  
Jacob didn't even know if he'd be able to keep the leftover food, but he wasn't about to just push it aside. He couldn't waste something that was so hard to come by that sometimes he and his adopted family simply went without it some days. He tucked in the last corner of the napkin as tightly as he could and pretended for a moment that he wasn't trapped and that he'd be on his way home to show off his find in just a few minutes.  
  
Dean’s confusion steadily grew as he watched Jacob almost reverentially wrap up the tiny bite of pizza. The way he handled it, Dean would think the kid hadn’t seen that much food before. It was almost like it was what he thought he’d have to eat for some time, and nothing else.  
  
Dean wasn’t a stranger to scarcity. Growing up, left in motel rooms for what might turn into months at a time… he’d had more than one week where he didn’t know where the next meal would come from. More than one time he’d slipped a protein bar into his pocket at a store, just because it was all that he and Sam would have to eat that day. It wasn’t an easy life, and even now he avoided waste whenever he could.  
  
He recognized that same look in Jacob. If Jacob had been a human, Dean would think of him as a kindred spirit. Here was someone who knew in much sharper relief what it felt like to go without. Someone who had very little in life, even when it came to food.  
  
Dean stood up without warning, causing Jacob to flinch back in surprise. He needed to clear his head, get some space from the situation. He hadn’t slept in over a day, and he was in the middle of a case with more grey area to muddle through than he’d ever encountered before, and he needed to make sure he was at the top of his game. Not exhausted, sitting hunched over a table for hours on end before coming to the _wrong_ conclusion. Jacob hadn’t done anything that warranted Dean rushing just to wrap up the case.  
  
The rest of the pizza was packed away in the mini fridge, and he stuffed a few waters in as well so he’d have something cold to drink later on. Jacob was left alone on the table, looking forlorn and out of place, and that made Dean question again what exactly he was doing here. Why he was trapping some small kid that didn't seem able to hurt anything. All he’d displayed so far was the snark that got shot at Dean.  
  
Determined to get his mind off things for a bit, Dean snapped on the TV, flipping channels until an episode of _Dr. Sexy, MD_ came up. His mind wasn’t on the convoluted romance as he sat there. It merely provided a distant background noise to the dilemma he’d found himself in.  


* * *

  
Jacob stared across the room at Dean, shock still written all over his face. He turned his head to watch the TV that blared to life, filling the room with the sound of some medical drama TV show. Jacob wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen after they had their food, but this wasn't it.  
  
A glance upwards reminded him. He was completely trapped. Dean could take his time. He'd probably simply gotten bored. Maybe he was thinking up new questions, or simply letting his meal settle before getting back to it. Either way, all Jacob could do was wait. He didn't get any decisions here.  
  
He sighed and took a drink from the cap of water before pushing himself back to lean against the wall of his glass prison. His arms rested on his knees and he stared upwards without seeing.  
  
He was captured. Trapped by a human who, despite being halfway decent to him at points, still had no intention of letting him go. All Jacob could imagine were scenarios that ended with Dean either wringing his neck with barely a flick of the wrist, or stuffing him in a pocket and leaving.  
  
Why would he just let Jacob go? Even without Dean's hunter experiences, Jacob was a strange, nonhuman thing over which Dean had all control at the moment.  
  
Sam ... Walt ... Mallory ... Jacob would lose all of them. He'd found a family after his own mom abandoned him, left him behind because she had no way of knowing he was smaller than her hand now. This time it'd be Jacob leaving, one way or the other. Overwhelmed by the worst-case scenarios that flooded his brain, Jacob crossed his arms on his knees and buried his face.  


* * *

  
As time slipped by with Dean buried in conflicted thoughts of the hunt and what it meant to be a hunter, and Jacob seeing his entire life slip away from him no matter what Dean decided to do with him, a third figure slipped out of the vent and snuck under the bed Dean was lying on.  
  
After thirteen years spent trapped in a motel, patience was a specialty of Sam’s.  
  
So he waited.  
  
Eventually, the heavier breathing of the human above slipped into the steady rhythm of sleep. Sam wasn’t about to question his luck. For whatever reason, the human was asleep in the early hours of the afternoon, and he had his one chance. He came up to the foot of the bed, staring out at the room. He’d be in the open, but for Jacob, it would be worth it. There was no way he was going to leave his adopted brother there to the whims of a human.  
  
Sam had no idea what had happened during his mad dash from the ceiling vents to the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Jacob was alive and unhurt, and for that he was thankful. He’d been terrified of coming back to the human disposing of the lifeless body of his brother.  
  
He could make out the top of the vase from where he was standing down on the ground, but that was all. Sam took a deep breath to prepare himself for what he was about to do. It was monumentally _stupid_ , and if Walt found out _any_ of it, the lectures would never end.  
  
_He’d_ gotten Jacob caught. Sam wouldn’t even try to deny it. Jacob had only been out to the actual rooms a few times, and usually with both Sam and Walt. Sam had been overconfident, and he’d gotten Jacob in trouble.  
  
Darting out into the open, Sam tensed as he ran, ready at any moment to feel the touch of eyes on his back. Jacob had his strength, but Sam had his own ability. He was the only one who could tell if someone was glancing in their direction. It was a tangible sense, a prickling up the back of the neck that had alerted him to humans that were out of sight more than once. It helped him slip away from danger time and time again.  
  
No prickling came, and Sam reached the table without incident. His hook was out in seconds, and he stared up. He needed to get this on the first try. Time was no luxury, and even the clink of the metal hook on the top of the table might wake up the human.  
  
He was in luck, and it caught. Sam tugged on the line, making sure it was secure for the trip, and hauled himself up. He was the fastest climber in the motel, and he made it up in record time. Even earlier, climbing with Jacob, he’d taken his time compared to how skilled he actually was.  
  
Reaching the top, Sam almost bounced to his feet. “Jacob!” he hissed. He ran past a huge set of keys and a phone, reaching the glass vase. He put a hand on the side. “Hey, you okay?”  
  
Jacob looked up in shock, hearing a voice he was certain he'd never hear again. He scrambled to his feet at the sight of Sam and rushed to the side of the vase where his brother stood. His hands pressed against the inside of the glass just as Sam had a hand on the outside.  
  
It was relieving to see someone his scale. After a few hours trapped with a human, and a huge one at that, Jacob felt smaller than ever. But here was Sam, someone else in the same world as him. A part of Jacob's frightening new "normal.” Sam was standing there looking calm and collected despite the gigantic belongings of the human scattered over the table nearby. Jacob smiled faintly, but it quickly turned into a look of concern.  
  
Jacob looked past Sam, finding Dean where his huge body lay stretched out on the bed. Though the TV droned on, the human was actually asleep. His afternoon nap couldn't have had better timing, but this was still too dangerous.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?! You could get caught too!"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, stepping back to size up the vase. “Dude, I am _saving your ass,_ ” he replied with a confident grin. “Just hang on. I’ll find a way out of this for both of us.”  
  
With a quick glance towards the bed, Sam saw the human was still fast asleep. Now, he just had to stay that way long enough for them to get out of there and vanish back into the walls.  
  
The vase was tall, almost three times the height of either cursed brother. Thick glass formed Jacob’s prison, widening in the middle then growing thinner at the bottom. The bible that sat on top would be the hard part for them to deal with. Jacob had enough difficulty dealing with the vase on its own, and the bible made that altogether impossible. If Sam could get the bible down, they might have a chance.  
  
If the human didn’t wake up.  
  
“Okay, I have an idea,” Sam told Jacob. He jogged back over to his hook at the edge of the table and tugged it out of the wood. “I’ll get you out of this, I _promise._ ”  
  
With a careful eye, he judged the distance to the bible and tossed his hook, ready to catch it if he missed.  
  
Jacob watched the fishhook sail upwards, practically holding his breath as if he might affect its trajectory. If that book was gone, he already knew he could try to lift the vase high enough. He was primed to duck down and grab the edge of the glass in case it worked. Jacob's hands twitched, and...  
  
The hook glanced off the side of the bible and fell back down. He watched it land in Sam's ready hand and released a breath. At least it hadn't clattered against the table. Jacob looked past at Dean again, making sure the human was still asleep.  
  
Sam was out in the middle of the table, same as Jacob. He wasn't as trapped, but getting away could be just as tricky, since his hook wasn't in place for a quick getaway. Even if Sam managed to get the book down without it making a noise, there would be two of them on the table with only one climbing rope. Jacob's was still locked away in the human's pocket across the room.  
  
"S-Sam, look, I appreciate this, but don't get yourself caught because of me, okay? I'm sorry I didn't run fast enough. You still have a shot here, and who knows? Maybe he'll let me go?" He tried to offer a casual smile like he actually believed the suggestion. He tried.  
  
Sam ignored the suggestion as he aimed again. “I’m _not_ leaving you,” he insisted. “Aside from the fact Walt’s _already_ going to kill me, I’m not losing another brother.” He fell silent for a moment while memories of his older brother rushed to mind, then launched the hook in the air. This time it landed on the top. Cautious, Sam carefully drew it towards himself, praying it would catch on the book.  
  
The shot was no good. It slipped off, tumbling towards Sam. With a fast grab, he snatched it out of the air. “Son of a _bitch,_ ” Sam hissed, using one of his brother’s favorite curses from a lifetime ago.  
  
He stepped back for the next shot, preparing himself.  
  
If he’d been less focused on the top of the vase, and paying attention to his surroundings, Sam might have heard a shifting come from the bed, signaling the human’s journey towards wakefulness. Pulled out of a quiet slumber by a familiar curse that was just on the edge of hearing.  
  
Sam went to toss his hook, then felt ice run through every vein in his body. He froze as the tingle of _eyes_ hit the back of his neck and spidered up and down his spine.  
  
Jacob saw the freeze and his eyes widened. He looked past Sam at the human as he stirred. Those green eyes were open and they were looking _right at them_. Dean was awake, and once again Jacob couldn't read his expression.  
  
He couldn't imagine anything good coming of this. All Jacob could see was Sam eventually joining him under that vase, or both of them being killed by an irate giant whom they had no hope of fighting off.  
  
"No, no, no!" Jacob hissed, his hands pressed on the glass again. He wanted to reach right through it and shove Sam away, get him running for the edge of the table. Get him _out_ of there before Dean stood to his horrifying height and stomped across the room and captured him. All because of Jacob. He didn't run fast enough and now Sam was going to pay for it too.  
  
Sam caught Jacob’s eyes and knew what his adopted brother was seeing. _The human’s awake,_ he thought, a surge of adrenaline rushing through every vein. He whipped around, yanking out his knife and letting his hook fall to the tabletop with a clatter.  
  
The human was already sitting up in the bed, staring at them both with surprised green eyes. Sam took a few steps back towards the vase, bracing the knife with a hand and adopting a defensive posture. He stiffened as the human stood, towering even from a distance. Sam grit his teeth.  
  
There was nowhere for him to run even if he wanted to.  
  
For Dean’s part, the last thing he’d expected was waking up to find a _second_ guy standing on his table. This one was taller, with fluffy brown hair that almost flew straight out as he twisted in a fast circle to see where Dean was.  
  
“So there _are_ more of you,” Dean breathed. As he stood, he saw the new one actually had a _knife_ out, the blade almost the length of the small guy’s forearm. He was clearly prepared for a fight, unlike Jacob. Despite his size, he stood his ground.  
  
Dean took the few steps that covered the distance to the table, staring down in shock at the new intruder.  
  
The small guy flinched back, stepping closer to the vase. “Not another step!” he snapped out in a steady voice, belying the fear that was in his eyes as he stared up at the hunter. Trying to take control of a situation that they all knew was already lost.  


* * *

  
Every step Dean took closer to the table, Jacob felt like his heart beat a little harder. He was frozen to the spot, his hands planted against the glass and his eyes staring straight upwards. He shook at the sight of how imposing Dean was, looming over the table like he did. Jacob almost couldn't see him past the edge of the bible. It was like Dean was directly above, casting his enormous, oppressive shadow on purpose.  
  
Jacob was useless to do anything. Sam was vulnerable out there. His knife wouldn't really stop Dean. It might slow him down a little bit, but that was all. At best, they'd have an annoyed giant on their case, and who knew how he'd react to that? Jacob suspected the only reason he was still alive was because he hadn't done anything to make the hunter think he was hurting anyone.  
  
What would happen if Sam managed to score a good cut with that knife? How quickly might Dean's mind change? Jacob's hands shook and he punched once at the glass again, furious and terrified that he'd gotten Sam into this situation.  
  
Trapped, unable to defend himself, while a giant stared down at him.

[Defiant Sam, by Mogadeer](http://nightmares06.deviantart.com/art/com-A-scrapper-564512973)  
  
"You have to run! Y-you gotta at least _try!_ Sam, get out of here before he _grabs_ you!" Jacob insisted, staring at the back of his brother's head. Willing him to leave, to try to save himself.  
  
Dean’s mind checked out halfway through the desperate, shouted words. Sam.  
  
_Sam._  
  
He couldn’t stop his eyes from locking on to that knife held out against him in a shaking arm. An arm that was thinner and frailer than even Jacob’s. The second guy was taller but leaner than his trapped companion.  
  
Dean recognized that knife.  
  
The knife he’d made his brother over a decade ago.  
  
The hard look in his eyes vanished as though it had never existed. A wave of emotion hit Dean as he stared at the tiny, brown haired, hazel eyed man that was standing down on the table, desperately trying to protect someone just like him.  
  
_Trails West Motel. Where Sam died all those years ago…_  
  
Sam hadn’t died.  
  
All those years, and _Sam hadn’t died_.  
  
“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Dean said, unconsciously echoing Sam’s same curse from minutes before. He took that last, fateful step forward, staring almost straight down at the intruder.  
  
At Sam.  
  
Sam backed away again, almost running into the vase when he did so. His small arms continued to shake as he held the knife out, his only defense in a world that he was too small for. Standing bravely against a giant to protect someone else. Dean saw all of it, and felt remorse hit him as he realized what he’d done. What he was _doing_. He licked dry lips, trying to get back his voice.  
  
“ _Sammy?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Sam.
> 
>  **Next:** Coming September 15 th 2016 at 9pm est. (Also known as my husband's birthday, so if the update is late, that's why)
> 
> Comments and kudos are love, and keep us writing! Don't forget to feed your writer with love and care! (I'm in a goofy mood tonight tbh)


	11. Guilt

Jacob couldn't see Dean's eyes anymore. The edge of the bible was in the way, blocking the top half of Dean's face from view. But he stared in shock at what he could see, because he almost couldn't believe what he'd heard. Jacob's arm was poised to strike the glass again, but it remained frozen in place.  
  
Jacob was prepared for a number of things. Sam getting grabbed up in a crushing fist. Sam having his knife taken away. Sam being swatted aside by the angered human.  
  
But being called “ _Sammy?!_ ”  
  
 _No one calls him that ..._ Jacob thought, his brow pinching in confusion. But then his eyebrows shot up and his lips parted in a gasp as he remembered something. _No one but..._ Sam had told Jacob about the family he lost a few times before. They were hunters. His father's name was John, and his brother...  
  
 _Dean._   
  
Dean Winchester.  
  
Raised to be a hunter from the start, even all those years ago before Sam had been cursed. Dean’s words from before leapt to mind.  
  
 _Trained for it most of my life…_  
  
And the only person that Sam had ever mentioned that called him _Sammy_. The brother that had escaped the witch without being cursed.  
  
Jacob couldn't believe he hadn't made the connection sooner. He could only blame the stress of the situation. His thoughts had been frantic and confused since that enormous hand closed around his body and took away all control of his life.  
  
It had been Sam's _older brother_ the entire time.  
  
The coincidence was unbelievable.  
  
Dean was still standing over them, his last word hanging in the air almost ominously. What he might do next was unknown. Brother or not, he had all the power between the three and they all knew it. Jacob unclenched his fist and lightly put his hands on the glass again, glancing between the two of them.  
  
Sam was frozen in disbelief, staring up at the human in front of them. Huge green eyes stared right back at him, an expression of _fear_ covering the human’s face. The name echoed in Sam’s mind. A name he hadn’t heard in so long, he’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.  
  
 _Sammy._ The voice that said it was deeper now, gruff at the edges with years of experience hunting monsters behind him, and yet it was so achingly familiar.  
  
“Dean?!” he blurted out in shock. “Dean, is it really--”  
  
Without warning, Dean’s hand swept forward. It moved faster than Jacob or Sam could ever hope to. Sam found himself knocked onto his back in a massive palm as it rose through the air, taking him swiftly away from solid ground. Behind him, Jacob yelped in surprise. Uncertainly, Sam held his knife out, trying to shift away from the human. He found himself surrounded by fingers as long as his entire body and couldn’t stop a shiver for how helpless he was.  
  
But the fingers didn’t close on him the way they’d coiled around Jacob.  
  
All too soon, he was held at eye level. Sam brought himself to a squat. The huge mouth in front of him parted, then he watched as huge teeth bit into the lip. Nervous.   
  
The human was nervous.  
  
“S-Sam…” The voice was so familiar. Like an echo of the past rumbling around him. “Sam, is that really you?”  
  
Sam daringly went to a stand, holding his knife at his side in a white-knuckled grip. He didn’t really know what to say, how to respond. This was something he’d never seen coming. “I, ah. I guess so. Dean… you… I…”  
  
Dean’s eyes locked on the knife. “All these years, and you still have it…” he breathed. “I…” Running out of words, Dean did the only thing he could think to do. He cupped his hand against his chest, a desperate sob escaping his mouth. “We thought you were _dead!_ ”  
  
If there had been any doubt of who had him in that massive hand, it was dispelled when Sam spotted an amulet almost as long as his arm, hanging down from the neck high above.  
  
Sam closed his eyes, a tear escaping him as he heard the steady thud of the heart so close by. A heart that was bigger than he was now. “Dean…” he whispered.  
  
His family had come back.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob could do little more than watch the scene unfold before him. Sam wasn't trapped in a fist or subjected to examination. He was held up and then Dean held him close to his chest. It was the closest thing he could do to mimic a hug with Sam so small compared to just his hand. From Jacob’s point of view, his adopted brother vanished into that hug, but there was no doubt that he was fine.  
  
Sam really did have his brother back. His _real_ brother. A piece of his broken family had found his way back.  
  
It was uncanny.   
  
If Jacob weren't still plagued by lingering terror, he'd almost be glad to see this reunion. He kept thinking about how close it had come to an entirely different outcome. If Sam hadn't come back, or if Dean hadn't recognized him in time ...  
  
Jacob took a deep breath and shook the thoughts away. That hadn't happened. He was staring up at the real thing. It might be through glass, but it was real. He remembered a little about what Sam had told him. How Dean, his older brother, had looked after him no matter what. How Dean had taken care of him while they grew up on the road.   
  
Sam had his family back.  
  
After an endless time in the silent room, Dean moved his hand away from his chest. Sam wavered in place, his stance unsteady on the unfamiliar surface. He couldn’t help tightening a hand on his knife when he realized again how little control he had over the situation. How easily a single move from Dean could affect him. It might be Dean, but Dean was a man he hadn’t seen in over half his lifetime.  
  
“Sammy… I’m… I’m _so sorry,_ ” Dean said, tears shining in his eyes. “We left… we thought the witch took you and dad chased her through three towns before the trail vanished. We… we didn’t know…”  
  
Sam swallowed, struck by the powerful words. Gathering himself, he gestured with a hand, waving off the past. “Dean, _it wasn’t your fault._ ” He tried to keep a steady demeanor as he talked, putting as much strength behind his words as he could. His voice was so much softer, it was hard to manage. Sam pushed on.  
  
“I got hit with a curse. I don’t know what she does to her victims… Two people saved me before it ever got that far. They kept the witch from finding me before dad chased her out of town. And then they waited for me to wake up.”  
  
Sam closed his eyes, remembering that first time. “I didn’t even believe them at first,” he said softly. He’d darted away from Walt and Mallory, trying to escape back to his family. A family that was long gone. Dean held his hand closer to his face, desperately hanging on to every word. Emboldened by the hopeful expression in front of him, so different than the man Sam had watched snatch Jacob off the ground, he went on. “After seeing everything, it was kinda hard to deny.”  
  
Absently, he scuffed a boot against the ground he was standing on, watching the give of the skin under his foot. One of the strangest sensations he’d ever felt. He teetered on the edge of the next subject, but forced himself to meet Dean straight in the eyes. “Dean.” He nodded towards the vase. “That’s my adopted brother, Jacob. He was hit by the same curse three years ago. Mind letting him out?”  
  
Dean’s lips parted in shock. Sam’s adopted brother. All that time Dean had spent wondering what Sam would think of what he was doing, and he’d been trapping Sam’s brother. “Fuck,” he whispered, watching the expression of worry on Sam’s face. Sam really didn’t seem to know if Dean would follow through on his request. He could even feel Sam _trembling_ from time to time like a scared animal.  
  
His own brother was afraid of him. Afraid of what he'd do.  
  
“Whatever you say, Sammy,” Dean said, keeping his voice at a whisper. “I… I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”  
  
Legs wobbly, he took a seat at the table again, lowering the hand with Sam right down for the smaller man to step off. Sam hopped down, striding over to the vase even as Dean’s arm stretched overhead. A huge hand closed on the bible, putting it down on the table out of the way.  
  
Then, the vase was lifted away from Jacob, freeing him at last.  
  
Jacob stared upwards as the vase lifted off of him. He took a deep breath as air rushed to greet him, fresher air than the stifling confinement where he’d spent most of the morning. He briefly wondered if he would have come close to suffocating in there if Sam hadn't intervened.  
  
Something which was a miraculous turn all by itself. Sam, in a bold request, had asked for Jacob's freedom. They all knew that he could never in a million years have forced Dean to do anything. If Dean had wanted to keep Jacob prisoner, he wouldn't have met any resistance.  
  
But, in motions that were so easy for him, he'd lifted the book and the vase away in one strong hand. Both actions would be entirely impossible for Jacob.  
  
When the vase was set aside with a hollow _thunk_ that Jacob was all too familiar with, he finally looked away from the powerful hand moving it, looking instead to its owner. Dean sat at the table once more, still as huge as ever. The only difference was his expression. He looked remorseful.  
  
He still sat so much taller than both of the table's occupants. Jacob hadn't realized it before, but the vase was like a shield between him and the human. An artificial and imagined one, but a shield all the same. Now Jacob was even more exposed and he had nothing to his name.  
  
He took a cautious step backwards, wary of any grabs that might come his way. "Thanks," he said uncertainly, eyes still wide from shock over how it had all gone.  
  
The guilt grew on Dean’s face. “Don’t mention it,” he said sadly, watching Sam as he darted towards Jacob the moment the kid was clear of the vase.  
  
Sam was at Jacob’s side as soon as possible, a hand on his shoulder. “Thank god you’re alright,” he muttered under his breath so Dean wouldn’t hear. He didn’t waste any time before he was checking Jacob for injuries, making sure there was nothing he’d missed while he’d been away from the vent.  
  
He’d trusted Dean in his life as a human. He didn’t know if he could trust Dean now.  
  
Trust had become a lot harder to give ever since he'd been cursed. Now, Sam was small enough to overpower with a single finger.  
  
Sam remembered learning about what it meant to be a hunter. He understood how lucky they were that Dean still listened to him after the curse had struck. People that turned into vampires became monsters in anyone’s eyes the moment it happened.  
  
Tainted.  
  
Irredeemable.   
  
The same went for werewolves and a variety of other creatures that hunters fought. There was always the possibility that Dean could have followed through with that line of thought and killed them both. Other hunters would have.  
  
As much as Sam had wanted his family to show up during the long years he’d been trapped in the motel, all that time he’d spent watching the parking lot and praying to see a vintage black Impala roll up with rock music blaring out the windows, he’d also been afraid. Afraid that his dad and his brother would come back only to be Sam’s greatest enemies.  
  
Hunters, set to track down Sam’s family and rid the motel of their ‘pest problem.’  
  
Sam stepped away from Jacob, his brow furrowing as he realized there was something missing. Which meant… He turned to Dean, who was still staring down at them, wide-eyed, like he couldn’t credit what he was seeing. The green eyes locked on Sam once more, making the light tingle on his neck flare up again.  
  
“Dean,” Sam asked slowly, “did you take Jacob’s bag?”  
  
If Sam could have believed a hardened hunter could look like a kicked puppy, he would have been prepared for Dean slumping down in his seat and taking on that exact look. Pinching open a pocket sitting against his chest big enough to fit Sam and Jacob both and then some, Dean reached in. A tiny bag dangled between his fingertips when he pulled his hand out.  
  
“Look, I, ah… I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding, Jacob,” Dean tried get out. “I didn’t know you were one of the victims here, really.”  
  
Sam nodded approvingly at the hunter’s admittance. The Dean he’d known as a child wouldn’t stand for anything happening to a victim of a supernatural attack. He and Jacob both fit into that category here. Dean might be a lot bigger than Sam remembered, but he was still the brother Sam knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew how guilty Dean would feel once he found out who Jacob was...
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 18 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Comments and reviews are love!


	12. The Whole Story

Jacob watched his bag swing back and forth in the grip pinched around it. When Dean's hand was closer, he inched forward on uncertain feet. After what he'd just been through, going _towards_ a gigantic hand felt like a terrible idea, but he _needed_ that bag. Everything he had to his name anymore was in there.  
  
He leaned a little and reached out a hand, getting it around the strap of the bag and pulling it back towards himself with a definite feeling of relief. He settled it on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, glad to have the familiar weight right back to where it belonged. He glanced up at Dean as he stepped back, trying to give himself some space from that outstretched hand.  
  
"Don't ... don't worry about it," Jacob answered uncertainly, trying to mimic Dean’s nonchalance. His voice was still wound up from nerves. He brushed a hand back through his hair, unsure of what to do. Sam was still here, so there was no way he could bolt, but standing there in full view of a human? It felt dangerous.  
  
He glanced aside and noticed the napkin-wrapped pizza still sitting forgotten on the table. Jacob stooped to gather it up so he’d have something to do, letting his bag settle on the tabletop. He opened it up and frowned. Everything had been returned to his bag out of order or haphazardly. Dean’s fingers were too big for anything else when he’d put it all back, so Jacob ended up having to shift some of his things around to make room.  
  
The sight of the bottom corner of the bag made his stomach clench with sudden worry. His bead. He'd forgotten that it wasn't shoved back into the bag, but dropped separately into that enormous pocket along with the earring. Jacob looked up, unable to see even a sign that anything was in that pocket. Nothing showed past the folds against Dean’s chest.  
  
He bit his lip indecisively. Sam had gotten Dean to let Jacob out and give him his bag back with simple, steady words. Dean had _listened._ So, in theory, Jacob should be able to do the same and get his bead back. His one tie to the family he lost before. It was terrifying to consider losing it, but the words just wouldn't come out.  
  
His cheeks reddened a little and he busied his tremoring hands by tucking away the wrapped up food. He needed to figure out how to work up the courage to ask for something. He couldn't do it yet.  
  
Sam leaned over Jacob as he put the wrapped napkin into the satchel. Jacob’s hands were shaking a little. “Hey,” Sam said softly. “What’s the matter? Is everything in one piece?” He hoped that Dean hadn’t damaged any of the items in the small bag. Neither of the cursed brothers owned much at all, and most of what they had was scavenged, leaving them both to treasure the few items that were really important in life.  
  
Sam’s knife. Jacob’s bead. Both of their satchels; Walt had put a lot of care into making the leather bags. He was a master when it came to working with leather, which was why the bags were so sturdy, and why the boots they both wore would hold up to wear and tear as much as a human’s would.  
  
"Yeah, everything's in one piece," Jacob answered back quietly with a little shrug. He shifted his possessions around a little, double checking that that really was the case. He made sure his climbing rope wasn't tangled and his lightbulb wasn't broken.  
  
It was true. Other than the missing bead, everything in Jacob's bag was in order. Even Sam's small map had survived Dean's oversized handling. Not having the bead, however, eclipsed that good news with worry.  
  
"I just, uh," Jacob began, wondering how in the world he'd manage to look a giant in the eye and tell him to give his most cherished possession back. He couldn't _make_ Dean do anything. And Dean had claimed the ruby quite soundly. Maybe he wouldn't want to return either item. "He has my dad's bead. I think it's still in his pocket ... maybe." His voice was quiet, a murmur that only Sam could hear.  
  
Sam shot an appraising look up at Dean. From his line of sight, he couldn’t even tell that there was anything _in_ the pocket. The thought nagged at him. If Dean wanted, Sam and Jacob would be small lumps in his pockets, hidden away from anyone’s sight. Completely out of reach of any help. None of them could stop Dean.  
  
Sam pushed the thought away. Dean wouldn’t do that. It might be years since they’d last seen each other, but his older brother had spent most of his life watching out for him. There was no way that Dean would backtrack so far as to ever want to trap his little brother.  
  
The hunter stiffened under their combined gazes. “It’s all okay, right?” Dean asked. “I don’t think anything got knocked around in there, and I sure as hell didn't chest bump anyone since I took it…”  
  
Sam shook his head, breaking off the hunter’s voice. “No, everything’s fine.” He straightened. “It’s just… there was a bead in his bag. It’s… all he has left of his family after the curse hit. Like my knife. It went to a necklace that didn’t shrink down with him.”  
  
Realization dawned on Dean’s face and his eyes widened. “That’s why he was so upset about it but didn’t give as much of a damn when I had the ruby,” he surmised. A flicker of regret joined the guilt on his face. Dean had a necklace of his own just like that. One he couldn't bear to lose. “S’not like I need either of them… I just thought he collected them. I had no idea.”  
  
Sam shook his head. “The earring might be useful, especially if we can separate that hook, but the bead… it’s Jacob’s, and Jacob’s alone. It _belongs_ to him.”  
  
Dean gathered the last two items out of his pocket and held them out on the tips of his fingers. Sam took back the ruby earring, rubbing a bit more of the dust off as he took a step back to give Jacob space to get his bead.  
  
Jacob got to his feet, glad to see the green bead in one piece. He didn't think Dean had done anything that would have broken it, but it _was_ made of glass. He walked up to Dean's hand, his hesitation set aside for now. Having that bead back was far more important to him. He lifted it off of an enormous fingertip in both hands, cradling it like a very large green egg.  
  
He brushed a hand over a nick on the surface, one that had been there for as long as he could remember. When he was still bigger, he'd run his fingertip over the imperfection on the surface so many times that it almost wore away. When he'd been shrunk, he found it again with his greater eye for detail.  
  
It was remarkable how such an innocuous looking thing could make Jacob feel like a lot of his lost equilibrium was returning. Even standing on a table with a human looking at him, at least he had this back. He didn't waste any time stashing it away in his bag, closing the flap over it and clasping it shut. Hopefully he’d never risk losing it again.  
  
He sighed and sat back from his bag for a moment, mulling things over. Being there unnerved him, but Dean had turned out far better than he could have hoped for a human to be. He looked tentatively up at the hunter, a slow breath steadying his nerves.  
  
"So you're Sam's brother. Heard a bunch about you ... Man if I'd realized sooner you were _that_ Dean ..." He trailed off into a sheepish chuckle. Things might have gone a lot smoother, if Jacob had put the pieces together.  
  
Dean hesitantly leaned down, then folded an arm on the table to rest his head on. It helped put him a little closer to their level, or so he hoped. He’d have to be as dense as a rock to miss how nervous they both were around him. He couldn’t blame them after everything. After all, he _had_ snatched Jacob right off the ground and trapped him in a vase the entire morning.  
  
That wasn’t exactly something he’d ever be able to make up.  
  
“If you told me that Sam was alive, I might have had a hard time believing you,” Dean admitted. “I’ve never even _heard_ of a curse that… _shrinks_ people like this.” His eyes flicked over to Sam. “And you’ve been okay? All these years, you’ve been safe?” Deep inside, he wanted nothing more than to hold his brother again. Keep him safe, away from anything dangerous. Even ruffle that messy brown hair that Sam never seemed to want to cut.  
  
But the wary expression on Sam’s face held him back. He couldn’t risk alienating his brother with a thoughtless move.  
  
Sam nodded, crossing his arms. “All it did was shrink us. I think… I was out cold for a week after I got hit. Jacob too. By the time I woke up, you and Dad were long gone. I tried going out to the motel room you’d been in, but there were other people staying there by then. Nothing was familiar, nothing was _safe…_ but we’ve survived. You’re the first person… that caught us.”  
  
Dean frowned, but couldn’t say anything. His brother’s safety was tenuous at best if he was near any humans. Even with his knife, Dean wouldn’t have had a problem snatching up the smaller Winchester. He sighed, then gave them both a slight smile, trying to seem less threatening. “I’ll just have to make sure no one else gets ahold of you while I’m around, now, won’t I?”  
  
He shifted attention to Jacob. “Do you… remember much about what happened when you got cursed?” Dean asked hesitantly. His mind was hopeful, trying to work through things just like any other case. He had two victims here, and needed to see if there was anything that could be done to help them, even after all those years. If only the trail of the witch wasn’t so cold.  
  
Jacob stiffened a little to see those eyes peering down at him again. If he was this unnerved by it, he could only imagine what Sam was going through right now, with his unique ability to feel eyes on him. That skill made Sam a perfect lookout for supply runs, but in this situation ... well, they were already found. It was monumental luck that it was Sam's brother that found them, nothing more.  
  
He heaved a sigh of his own, casting far less of a breeze than Dean did with his exhalations. Jacob returned his bag to his shoulder and got to his feet, staying near Sam. "Not much," he replied with a what-can-you-do shrug. "Mom went out to get some takeout I think. I heard a knock and thought it was her, so I opened the door. Didn't get a good look at the lady before there was a flash and I woke up a week later." Jacob refrained from giving any further details than that, though he remembered well enough how freaked out he'd been at first.  
  
Waking up surrounded by strangers who spouted what sounded like crazy nonsense. Noticing everything seemed very dim and... just _off_ somehow. Jacob had run away from the people that would become his family. He'd run into the passages in the wall, growing more and more confused with each rushed step. When he'd found an entrance to a motel room, he'd frozen in awe of the size of everything.  
  
Sam, the one person who understood the shock with keen familiarity, had stuck with him through the adjustments he had to make. Jacob still had a lot to learn about dealing with the results of his curse, but at least he wasn't learning it on his own.   
  
Dean’s eyes were distant as Jacob told his story. It brought back memories of his own from years back, memories he’d tried to hide away to escape the pain of Sam’s loss. But his little brother was here, was _safe…_ he was just smaller than he should be.  
  
The witch hadn’t relied on the Winchesters opening up the door like Jacob had. She must have known they were the children of a hunter, and not predisposed to trust, especially Dean with his job of looking out for his little brother. Whatever magic she possessed, it had been enough for her to simply appear in the room, the deadbolt still firmly clicked shut against the door.  
  
She’d pinned Dean against the wall, forced him to watch. Nothing he did was enough, nothing he did could help. The bright flash had filled the air, almost blinding him and making his brother vanish.  
  
 _Sam never vanished…_  
  
Dean realized that if Sam had shrunk, he could have been there the entire time. Overlooked in the middle of a battle for _Dean’s_ life when John had smashed the door down and tackled her away from his eldest. Sam must have been _tiny._ There was no way to know exactly how tall Jacob and Sam would be if they were still normal, but from the scale of things, there was no way that Sam would be much shorter than Dean was now, if not the same size or taller. When he’d been ten, he’d been a small, scrawny kid.  
  
Luck had kept him in one piece.  
  
Dean frowned thoughtfully to himself. “I’ll have to see if there were any other disappearances like that in the area, or see if she’s set up shop in another town. I haven’t heard of anything like this before us, and now you, Jacob. Maybe one day I can track her down and throttle a cure outta her.”  
  
Sam stared up at Dean. “All these years, and Dad found nothing? What if there’s no trail to find?”  
  
Dean gave a half-shrug, impeded by the fact he was still using his arm as a cushion. “We’ll figure it out. We always did when we were kids, right? No matter what, we’ll always find a way. That’s what family’s for, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Dean to finally put the pieces together. Jacob's not dangerous, he's a victim! Poor kid.
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 20 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome!


	13. Distance

Jacob watched Sam and Dean talk with a pensive gaze. He couldn't help but feel like he was watching from outside some kind of bubble. This was Sam's brother, his _real_ brother, his family. They knew each other so well that hearing Sam's name changed Dean from a looming, terrifying enemy to a careful, remorseful ally.  
  
Jacob wasn't a part of that; he hadn't grown up with Sam and Dean. He'd only met Sam after living fourteen years of his life at the proper size. By then Sam was already twenty, half of his entire life behind him at this scale. If there was an outsider among the three of them, Jacob was definitely it.  
  
He wondered briefly if his mom would be as determined as Dean to find the cure for the shrinking, if she knew.  
  
If there really was a cure, and Jacob wasn't ready to decide whether or not he believed it existed, would they be able to find it? If Sam's family had been keeping an eye out for that witch for this long, finding her now didn’t seem likely.  
  
Even with Dean newly determined, Jacob doubted the witch would allow herself to be found. She was happy enough cursing kids, shrinking them down to such a vulnerable size for reasons only she knew and was unlikely to divulge. There wasn't much for Dean to go on to hunt her down.  
  
Jacob sighed, confused about what he should do. The change was almost abrupt enough to give him whiplash as assuredly as if Dean had snatched him up again in a swift grab. Moments ago he'd been a prisoner, lost between innocent and guilty as far as Dean was concerned. Jacob had faced the very real risk of being killed in giant hands he couldn’t fight, or taken away in a huge pocket he’d never escape on his own.  
  
Now, Dean was talking about finding a cure. A way to get back to his normal size, just like that. Nothing that Jacob had done changed his mind so swiftly. That was all Sam.  
  
Jacob had a lot to think about, and this wasn't the place to do it. He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously. "L-look, Dean, uh. It's been ... well, I'm glad I got to meet you and all and I'm grateful that you gave my stuff back. But I think I'd like to, uh, head out." He pointed his thumb vaguely over his shoulder to indicate leaving.  
  
Thinking that might have been too abrupt or offensive to the human, he quickly amended, "It's just that a ton has happened and I ... need ..." His voice trailed off and he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide that they still shook intermittently.  
  
 _Time. Distance. Safety._ Jacob needed something more familiar in order to really process everything that had just happened. He only hoped that his request didn't go over badly with the giant that could easily insist he stay.  
  
Dean couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Sam at those timid words, searching for a clue on how he should respond. Sam was nodding along with Jacob, agreeing with every word.  
  
“He’s right, Dean. Our… family will be worried about us. I don’t want them to get into trouble just because we were out of the walls too long.”  
  
Sam held up a hand, forestalling the expected questions waiting on Dean’s lips. The simple motion froze Dean with his mouth half open. “Dean, I’ve lived this size a long time. The people our size are just that… _people_. Please, don’t come looking for them. They saved my life. I can’t put them in danger because I want to trust my older brother.”  
  
Dean licked suddenly dry lips, knowing it had been a possibility up until he’d seen Sam. “Sure thing, Sammy. I’m not about to hunt anyone that’s not hurtin’ anything, anyway.”  
  
He shifted so he was sitting up again, freeing his arm. He held out his hand near the two small brothers. “I could, y’know, give you a lift. It’s the least I can do after everything else…”  
  
Sam couldn’t help taking a step back, and Jacob stiffened at the size of the hand right next to them. A few minutes ago, Sam had _stood_ on that broad, living platform. Dean hadn’t given him a choice, he’d simply snatched him right off the table out of sheer shock and joy. Nervous, Sam glanced up at Dean, hoping he could explain. “It’s nice of you to offer… but we’re fine. We can get ourselves down. Maybe… maybe another time, okay? This is… a lot to get used to.”  
  
After such a nervous reaction, Dean’s hand suddenly felt like an alien appendage. He slowly took it back, upset by the reaction he’d gotten from Sam. The reaction he’d _earned._ He should have realized after trapping Jacob the way he had earlier meant neither of them was going to trust him to hold them. It was too dangerous. _He_ was too dangerous.  
  
“Just let me know if you need anything, then, okay? I’ll… be here. I guess.” Dean watched Sam gather up the small hook and line, coiling them around his arms in preparation.  
  
Jacob sighed, more relieved that Dean wasn't going to stop them than he realized he would be. He was also glad that Sam hadn't walked onto Dean's hand. He wanted to try to trust the older brother that Sam had told him about, but Jacob knew without a doubt that he simply _couldn't_ put himself in those hands again. Not so soon.  
  
Jacob had been _terrified_ when that hand closed around him, fingers bigger and stronger than he'd ever be pressing him relentlessly into a palm bigger than his bed. Dean had swept Jacob right off the ground in one nauseating move to hold him trapped in front of intense green eyes. Jacob knew that hand could manipulate him like a puppet with nothing more than a few nudges, and he could do nothing to stop it. The thought was too unsettling, the memories too fresh.  
  
The devastated look on Dean's face didn't make him feel better, either. The man looked more like a kicked puppy than a terrifying hunter, and he knew that Dean was remorseful. Jacob still followed close behind Sam, retrieving his twine from his bag without looking, practiced motions closing the clasp behind it. He had it untangled and ready by the time they reached the edge of the table.  
  
It was strange, sliding down carefully while a human was _right there._ Thankfully Dean at least remained in his seat, towering denim clad legs ending in boots firmly planted on the floor. Jacob's own boots reached the carpet not more than a few seconds after Sam's, and a flick of his wrist shook the hook loose from the edge.  
  
Both brothers were able to catch the hooks when they reached the ground, snatching them before they hit. Jacob only spared Dean one glance before turning his focus on following Sam towards the vent.  
  
He was big. He was _so big._ Jacob had been his captive for several hours and suddenly he wondered how he was still in one piece.  
  
The brisk walk across the floor was punctuated by the sound of that chair creaking. Dean must be turning to watch them go. Jacob glanced back once more, and saw the curious look way above them, like a mountain turning to watch the passersby. At least now the curiosity was tempered. The first time Jacob had been examined by what would pass as "curiosity," the eyes had still been so cold. Now ... now they just looked sad.  
  
Before they reached the vent, they passed the discarded nail. Jacob stooped and picked it up, easily slipping it back into the loop on his bag that served as its "sheath." He was almost glad he hadn't been given the chance to use it; he might not have survived Dean's ire if it came to it.  
  
Once he slipped into the vent close behind Sam, Jacob released a breath, and some of his tension melted away. Only once they were safely in the walls again did Jacob speak. "Sam ... I messed up a lot today. I'm sorry. You, uh. You don't _have_ to go back with me if you don't want. He is your brother and I guess there's a lot of catching up to do. I can try to cover for you for a while."  
  
Sam glanced out of the slits of the vent. Dean stood, staring towards where they were with a distant expression on his face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but there was a good deal of remorse. Remorse that Sam might be able to rid him of if he went back, told Dean he wasn’t afraid.  
  
But there were more important things for him to do. Dean would have to wait. Sam had his own responsibilities.  
  
He looked back at Jacob. “Y’know, none of that was your fault. I should have kept a sharper eye out on you. Maybe waited until he went into the bathroom to try our escape attempt. Or at least made _sure_ that you were right behind me before I went into the vent,” he said in a soft voice.  
  
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen yet with Dean, but it’s more important that we get back home and let them know everything’s okay. We’ve been out longer than a simple trip to get supplies should take. Walt would have my hide if you came back without me. I’ll… figure out what to do about Dean later. Once I have time to think.” Sam laughed. “Besides, could you imagine how it would go if you tried to ‘cover’ for me? We all know how good a liar you are.”  
  
Jacob winced but didn't argue. Sam was right. Jacob couldn't lie his way out of anything. His face always gave it away, and when it didn't, his voice did the job instead. It had always been that way, and the others had figured that out about him very quickly. "Okay, okay, yeah," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle.  
  
As they started their walk back to the little home within the motel, Jacob absently drummed his fingers on the strap of his bag. His thoughts were still going a mile a minute, even without a huge human looking right at him. His imagination, which wasn't often very kind to him, kept up a steady reel of "what ifs" as they went. Each scenario came with scenes played out in his head that he couldn’t wash away.  
  
What if it hadn't been Sam's brother? What if Dean had captured Sam in a too-rough grip before he could find out who it was? What if Sam hadn't shown up at all?   
  
What if Dean hadn't woken up? Jacob had to wonder about that one for an extra few seconds. If Sam had tried, and tried, and _tried_ to get Jacob free only to fail, Jacob's last sight of him might have been through glass before his brother had to hide. And then he'd be back to Dean's mercy. A captive who could do nothing to stop the human that had trapped him.  
  
Even reality wasn't very comforting. Jacob was only free now because Dean decided to let him go. Decided to believe in his brother and do as he asked. If Dean hadn't believed him, or had rejected Sam or ...  
  
Jacob shook his head as a shudder rushed up his spine, nerves begging him to stop thinking about the might-have-beens. Remembering something and finding a way to get out of his own thoughts, he looked at Sam. "I got some food," he told him, patting his bag. "Dean gave me some and there's enough left over for everyone."  
  
Sam arched his eyebrows. “So after everything, _you’re_ the one that had a successful trip,” he joked.   
  
"Yeah, we can call it beginner's luck, if you really want to," Jacob quipped, agreeing with Sam completely. It was hard to believe Jacob, the one who'd been captured and risked being killed, was coming back with the take from the day. He'd hardly been into the rooms very many times, and this was the first time without both Walt and Sam there to back him up.  
  
Sam came to a stop in the dusty path and opened the flap of his bag. “Actually, that reminds me.”  
  
If either of them were to pay attention to the path below, they would be able to see the imprint of many boots just like theirs, walking back and forth. This close to home, the paths got plenty of use on a day-to-day basis. Even if they didn’t come out of the walls, it was good to keep an eye on as much of the motel as they could. Watch for rats, check that nothing dangerous was going on anywhere. Another part was checking the front counter, watching to see if anyone mentioned ‘pest control’ or seeing anything strange. It was important to keep ahead of the game, considering everyone’s lives depended on it.  
  
Sam pulled out the earring, admiring the long silver hook. “You found this, so it’s yours. I’m sure Mom will appreciate it, and we can always find something to use the hook for.” He held it out to his brother.  
  
Jacob took the glimmering jewelry, holding it carefully. He'd been through a lot for the damn thing, so he definitely wanted to handle it with care. He tucked the earring away for the moment, thinking that it might be a better thing for after the explanations were all given. Something to soften the blow of what was about to be revealed. Jacob and Sam both knew that as soon as they got home, someone would pick up that something had gone almost disastrously wrong.  
  
When they reached the door, Jacob paused with his hand on it. There was a sheepish tone to his voice when he said "Here goes nothing," and pushed the block of wood aside, admitting them to the home that had become so familiar to him in the last few years.   
  
Just crossing the threshhold put him a little more at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These three have a lot of barriers to overcome, but I have faith!
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 22 nd 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments are love!


	14. A Small Home

Inside, the dim shadows were broken by sunlight that filtered through a few cracks in the wood flooring above. Their home was under the floor of one of the least used rooms in the motel, making it a safer option because of the distinct lack of humans that came through the area.  
  
Despite the cramped confines, the home was cozy. Wall hangings were draped on the walls to cover up the older wood finish. Mallory spent her time making them, or working on clothing for ‘her tall boys,’ and love and care went into each and every one. The kitchen table (scavenged from the same collection of dollhouse furniture that Sam’s desk and Jacob’s bed came from) had a thimble full of water on top. A few sheafs of aluminum foil lay nearby, ready to be formed into cups or plates as needed. Walt and Sam had dared the kitchens recently, slipping in to get the supplies that they could only take advantage of on occasion.  
  
Mallory was in the kitchen, bustling around like normal. She saw them come in and a huge smile lit up her face. “Sam! Jacob! We were so worried.” She hurried around the table, leaving behind the half-formed foil she’d had in her hands. “Thank goodness you’re both okay. Walt thought you might have run into trouble.”  
  
She pulled Sam down into a hug, barely able to reach his cheek even with him leaning over. She only stood 3 inches tall, leaving her the smallest person in their home. Jacob was almost at 3.8 inches, close to matching Walt, and Sam topped out the family at 4 inches.  
  
Jacob was next. She gave him a hug of his own, and a peck on the cheek. “You boys worry me so some days,” she chided them gently. “And I know Walt…”  
  
“ ‘Walt’ would like to know just what happened,” interrupted the last member of their home. Walt was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. He wore a similar outfit to Sam. The jacket and ‘jeans’ that Mallory had crafted Sam after being downsized turned out to be more efficient than what he’d worn before, so she’d adopted him a set of his own, and now it was all he wore, just like Sam.  
  
Jacob had a hoodie, instead of a jacket, also adopted from what he’d been wearing when he’d been attacked. Instead of the cheerful colors used by humans, he’d taken to wearing black to cut down his chances of being spotted.  
  
Sam felt a little heat rise to his face. “There was… some trouble when we got to the room. A human came in while we were searching for supplies.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the phantom sensation of Dean’s eyes on him again. “We tried to get out, but Jacob got snatched up.”  
  
Mallory gasped, a petite hand going to her mouth. “You poor dear, you got caught?” Instantly, she was pulling at Jacob’s arm to take him over to where the sun slipped through the ceiling. “Did you get hurt? How did you get away?”  
  
Jacob, despite being the strongest person in the room, had no resistance to offer as his adoptive mother pulled him towards the light. Even so, he made sure to point out, "I'm not hurt, really. Just kinda shocked after everything." His voice was steady despite what he said. Even with Walt's stern tone, Jacob was relieved to be back home.  
  
Walt and Mallory had taken him in without a second thought. Jacob, newly shrunk and completely blindsided by everything new he had to deal with, wouldn't have lasted a day on his own. He would always be grateful to them, and never questioned that they were his family now.  
  
"But uh. I got away because the human _let me go,_ if you'll believe me. I was trapped for a little while, but then ... " Jacob trailed off, realizing there was no way to reveal Dean's seemingly-miraculous change of heart without also revealing Sam's daring stand against him. Jacob glanced across the room at his brother with an apologetic look before continuing.  
  
"Then it turned out to be Sam's brother, Dean. Dean recognized him somehow when he came to try to help me ... and then he just let us go."  
  
Despite Jacob’s words, Mallory insisted on checking him over while Walt turned on Sam. “Your brother?” he asked in a serious voice. “Sam, how can you _possibly_ be sure it was your brother?”  
  
Sam shrugged, making his way further into the home after he pushed the block of wood back in front of the entrance. “I came back to get Jacob out of there, and the human, who’d taken a nap, woke up. Spotted me in seconds. You know how I can tell.” His hand went to the back of his neck.  
  
“I guess he must have heard Jacob call me ‘Sam.’ The next word out of his mouth was ‘Sammy,’ and that was it. He was almost in tears, and I saw the amulet I gave him as a kid. It’s one of a kind. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since. And I asked him to let Jacob go, and he did. That’s _all_. Nothing bad happened aside from Jacob being trapped.”  
  
Walt frowned severely. “Sam, you need to be more careful. Jacob’s only been out to the rooms a few times before. Maybe he should stay in unless we’re both going since you’ve clearly got to work on staying hidden.” Jacob cringed a little after the harsh assessment.  
  
Sam glared back. “Dad, Jacob did _fine_ on his own. He shouldn’t have to stay in just because I made a bad call,” he snapped out. “He’s the only one that managed to get anything out of this trip, human or not.”  
  
Walt’s blond eyebrows went straight up. “Is that so?” He threw a glance in Jacob’s direction.  
  
Jacob glanced over when Walt's gaze shifted to him. There was surprise there, maybe something like appraisal. Jacob felt his face heat up under the patient scrutiny. Jacob wouldn't have had it in him to argue like Sam had. Having his brother on his side was encouraging after Walt's suggestion that he wasn't ready yet.  
  
With what had happened reminding Jacob of just how small he had become, he had fully expected that exact reaction out of their dad. It was a foolish mistake, thinking he could outrun a human. But here he was, unhurt and bearing the spoils from his venture out of the walls.  
  
"Yeah, I did," he said, filling the silence while he fumbled with the clasp on his bag. He hadn't noticed before, but there was a small scratch on the leather that hadn't been there before. Dean must have done it with the needle he used to open the clasp. Luckily it wasn’t much damage.  
  
Ignoring it for now, Jacob flipped open his bag and carefully removed what he'd brought back. The earring he set gently on the table first, the ruby landing in a beam of light and throwing vivid red shards of light back out through its many facets. He set the wrapped pizza next to it, amazed to see so much food at once on their table; it didn't happen often.  
  
"I found that earring under one of the beds," he explained, picking it up again to show off the hook for Walt. With a motion that was remarkably easy for him, he pried the ruby out of its base, working his fingers into the setting and popping the jewel out like it was barely fixed on. He held it out to Mallory, the faintest hopeful smile in his eyes. "Thought maybe you'd find a place for that, and this hook has gotta be useful for something, right?"  
  
Mallory took the ruby from Jacob, her eyes sparkling. “I never thought we’d find a gem like this!” she exclaimed. The colors reflected off her face as she held it up in the light. “There will definitely be a good home for it here.”  
  
Walt nodded at the hook. “That could come in handy with the rats when I skin them,” he acknowledged. “It never hurts to be able to hang them, or their meat while we work.” Unlike Mallory, who remained in the home most days, he spent his time working on his craft out of the home. It was a messy job, but he was the only one in the motel skilled enough to be able to work with the pelts to the extent of the finely crafted satchels that they all used along with the boots that everyone but Mallory wore. She wore a pair of soft soled slip-on shoes, still out of leather but more comfortable compared to the boots. Her trips to the rooms were few and far between and Walt aimed for her comfort whenever possible.  
  
He rounded on Sam again. “Sam, you need to _be careful._ Family or not, Dean’s _dangerous_ now, to all of us. You come from a family of hunters. We need to stay safe, even if that means you have to stay away from him.”  
  
Behind them both, Mallory tucked the gem close to her chest, murmuring softly in a voice that only Jacob could hear, “Because telling him _no_ always works _so_ well.”  
  
Indeed, Sam’s eyes hardened. “I’ll be in my room,” he snapped, stalking away.  
  
Jacob smiled faintly at Mallory's words, seeing them come true as Sam stalked off to the room the brothers shared. He considered following, but he knew Walt might not be finished with the lecturing just yet. After all, Jacob had gone with Sam knowing that his skills weren't 100% yet. He hadn't had any idea how much trouble his lack of foresight would cause, but he could have been wiser about it.  
  
He stood and handed off the hook to Walt, then gestured to the napkin-wrapped pizza. It was no longer giving off the heat it had when Dean had first given it to him, but Jacob knew well enough that wouldn't affect the flavor or the fact that it was real, decent food.  
  
"I, um. I also got some food while I was there. There's plenty for everyone, but without a fridge I don't think it will last long." Even though that was the case, Jacob was proud that he'd managed to bring back such a boon after the very close situation he'd been stuck in. There was enough to feed their family there, even fill up their bellies for once. If anyone deserved it, it was Walt and Mallory Watch.  
  
"I, well, already ate, so that's all for you two and Sam," Jacob amended, knowing well enough that the words would imply that he'd eaten while in captivity. His brief, edge-of-the-knife time under a vase had been fraught with worry, unable to do anything but wait for the human to make a decision, but at least he hadn’t been starved. It still amazed him that the decision had been made so much in his favor.  
  
He inched towards the door to his and Sam's room, waiting in case Walt had more to say to him.  
  
Walt grumbled under his breath, then caught sight of Jacob’s slow attempt at escape. "You did good, bringing everything back even after getting caught," he allowed. He softened just a hair. "We don't want to risk either of you boys after everything you've been through. Just... _make sure_ Sam doesn't do anything stupid, okay? It might be his brother in that room, but his brother isn't the same as we are. Dean's _dangerous,_ even if it's just by accident."  
  
He let Jacob slip out of the room to go to the shared bedroom with Sam. Mallory came up behind him. "You know, it doesn't matter what we say," she told him gently. "Sam's always wanted his family back more than anything."  
  
Walt grimaced. "I just wish that his family weren't a bunch of hunters. They could decide he's some supernatural pest like the others do, and capture him, and he'd never be able to stop them. He deserves better."  
  
She pulled him down into a hug. "I think after all he's told us about Dean, that's the last thing we need to worry about. Now, come. Jacob brought us some food. We can't let it go to waste, now, can we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We could all see that one coming.
> 
> But isn't Mallory just the cutest?
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 25 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	15. Sneaking Out

Jacob found Sam exactly where he expected. His brother was at his desk, a piece of doll's furniture that belonged to the same set as Jacob's bed. His prized journal was laid across it.   
  
After of years of living together, Jacob knew better than to try to look over his shoulder. For one thing, he already knew what Sam must be writing about. For another, it was his private journal and Jacob wasn't one to intrude. To a human, it would be tiny, but to Sam or Jacob it was almost the size of an Atlas, giving him plenty of space to write, and ever since Jacob knew him, Sam had treasured that book.  
  
Sam hadn't been able to use the book at first. He'd needed to scrounge up some pencil lead to write with. A strike of luck happened when someone snapped the tip of their pencil while sketching landscapes. They'd never even bothered to toss the old lead out and Sam had taken advantage of it immediately.  
  
Jacob went to his bed, the very place he'd woken when he first got hit by the curse. He sat down on it, letting his bag rest beside him. The familiar room with the desk, bed, and pile of fabric that made up Sam's bed was a comfort to him. Jacob’s eyes hadn’t completely adapted to the dim lighting in the walls and floors, but he recognized everything in their room.  
  
The argument with Walt probably wasn't one that any of them could have foreseen happening. What were the chances of Sam's brother showing up again after thirteen years? Even after that, what were the chances of him not being a complete terror to them like every hunter was supposed to be? Jacob knew he would be equally conflicted if his mother came back. She'd be so big (though not as big as Dean) and she might not even recognize him at first. It'd be a scary cycle between hopeful and nervous until she did.  
  
Jacob let Sam write for a few seconds more before he could no longer hold back his own concern. "Sam ... Dude, how are you? This is a helluva bomb that just dropped. You okay?"  
  
Sam stopped writing and glanced up at him, worry in his eyes. "I... don't know," he admitted. "It's been so long... I never thought I'd see them again. Hell, for all I knew they'd get killed on a hunt and I'd be stuck here in limbo with no idea." He frowned to himself, shutting his journal carefully.   
  
Sam's thoughts went back to what he'd seen in the room and what he _hadn't_ seen. "Forget me, though. What _happened?_ I was up in the vent and I saw you try and escape. As soon as I saw him slam the vase back down on you I tried to get to the room as fast as I could to help... I thought for sure you'd gotten yourself in trouble there. But when I reached the room you were both eating _pizza,_ of all things!"  
  
Jacob scoffed with a faint smirk, a look of exasperated surprise on his face. "Oh, believe me, I was surprised too," he assured Sam, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. He still remembered the sound of the glass prison slamming back down around him, the feeling of the impact rattling through the table under his back. It was almost as terrifying as the first moment Dean snatched him up off the ground.  
  
Both times, he'd been helpless. Completely at the mercy of whatever Dean decided to do. Jacob's strength was far from enough to fight the enormous hunter if he got an idea in his head.  
  
It was little wonder that Sam was surprised. Of all the things Dean could have done, he'd given Jacob pizza. And water. He'd even given Jacob a napkin instead of making him eat off the table like an animal. That napkin was the only reason he'd been able to bring home the leftovers.  
  
"He just, I dunno ... He noticed how weirdly strong I was. I don't remember what he said but something made me realize he was a hunter and that's when I thought it was all over, right? But then the pizza showed up and he just ... gave me some of it. I didn't ask, and he didn't make me answer anything first. Just gave me food."  
  
Sam stared down at his hands, flexing them closed. “Maybe there’s hope for us yet…” he said quietly to himself. More than anything, he wanted to go back to that room, _talk_ to his brother. Catch up on old times, the years they’d missed while he was away. Find out what his dad was up to, what Dean had been doing all that time. Find out how he lived when he wasn’t terrifying Jacob.  
  
“Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as I was afraid.” Sam glanced up at Jacob. “I know our dad is against anything supernatural… He tried to grind that into our heads time and time again. But I… always questioned things. I’d get Dean thinking about stuff like that. Usually he’d just do what he was told. Watch after me. Guard the motel room. Other things he did without having to be told, like stitching our dad up when he’d come home hurt. They didn’t tell me about him hunting for a long time… but they couldn’t hide the injuries. Dean could stitch up a wound before he was a teenager.”  
  
Realizing he’d gotten off topic, Sam tried to brush off the memories. “If he was like that when he thought you might be a threat, the brother I grew up with is still in there. He didn’t get stomped out the way I thought might happen after I vanished.”  
  
Jacob listened intently. It seemed that Sam had had an influence on the way Dean treated his captive even before he showed up and brandished the familiar knife. For that, Jacob had to be grateful. He was still alive, and no longer trapped, thanks to that clear influence. It was lucky indeed that Sam and Dean's father hadn't succeeded in crushing that side of Dean out of him.  
  
Everyone living in the motel could be in danger right now if he had. They were innocent, each and every one, and they’d be at the mercy of a determined, _immense,_ hunter.  
  
There was something else in Sam's words. Something that told Jacob Walt's advice to not let Sam do 'anything stupid' would be easier said than done. Jacob couldn't blame Sam for it. They both shared a common regret, that of losing their families when they were cursed.   
  
Sam had a chance to unburn that bridge; who was Jacob to try to stop him?  
  
"Yeah, I'm glad he's still the brother you knew," he agreed. Then, he chuckled sheepishly. "Guess the family reunion was a little awkward ... Sorry about that. How long do you think he'll be sticking around? Do you think ... maybe he's here for one of those hunts?"  
  
“I have no idea,” Sam replied with a helpless shrug. “This town isn’t exactly on the way to anywhere… I have no idea what would bring him back after all these years.” He frowned. “He could be here for just the night, on his way to another hunt, or he could be here for a week or longer. Dad dropped me and Dean off at motels more than once… Sometimes for weeks at a time. Dean had to grow up quick back then…”  
  
Sam thought back to when he’d first seen Dean arrive, trying to remember what the hunter was saying on his phone. “I don’t think _Dean_ knows what he’s here for,” he let out. “Remember that phone call? He was mad that Dad hadn’t told him why he was in town.” Past that, Sam had no idea. Why would John Winchester send Dean to a town with no idea why he was there? What kind of coincidence did it take to put Sam in that very same town?  
  
Getting up from his desk, Sam flopped into his nest of blankets and fabrics. Ever since they’d found Jacob downsized the same as Sam, he’d given up his bed without ever needing to be asked. They’d simply placed Jacob in it and never questioned that it was his from then on. Sam was better adjusted by then. Originally, the bed had helped him get used to his new scale. Its shape gave him something familiar to focus on.  
  
Now, Jacob had that same familiarity.  
  
Besides, Sam's nest of covers was _comfortable._  
  
Aside from a short sojourn to the kitchen to grab a bite of the pizza Jacob had brought back with him, Sam didn’t leave the room much. He avoided running into Walt as much as he could, hoping to avoid the same argument all over again. Mallory must have known this already. She somehow managed to make sure that Walt wasn’t around when Sam slipped out.  
  


* * *

  
In the deep of night, well after the light from outside had faded and the small home was cast in the shadows of scattered moonlight, Sam found himself waking.  
  
He’d slept away a good portion of the afternoon, driven to bed by the stress and adrenaline and sheer _terror_ of the morning. Dean grabbing Jacob, trapping him… Sam running the length of the vents not once, but _twice_... somehow not being overheard by the human interrogating his adopted brother.  
  
Then the revelation of _who_ that human was. Discovering such familiar green eyes staring at him with a desperate fear, afraid of _Sam_ , their roles reversed.   
  
Afraid of Sam’s rejection.  
  
With that last thought in mind, Sam quietly pulled himself out from under the covers. Dean _needed_ him. If Dean was still in the motel, Sam needed to tell him that it didn’t matter how different they were now. They were still _brothers_ and nothing else mattered.  
  
To Sam, nothing else ever would.  
  
He gathered up his supplies silently, this time packing his journal in his bag along with everything else. With one last glance over at Jacob’s unmoving form, he left the room behind.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob waited until Sam was well out of earshot before he shifted. He turned over when he heard the block of wood slide carefully back into place, only knowing the sound was there because he was listening for it. He sat up in his bed and stared at the doorway out of their room with a pensive look on his face.  
  
He hadn't been asleep much through the night. Even though his ordeal that morning had gone so well, Jacob was still unsettled. His imagination kept running away with the "what-ifs" that he came up with. If it hadn't been Sam's brother, but his father instead, or if Sam hadn't shown up for Dean to recognize him. None of the scenarios he imagined ended with him sleeping in his bed, if they ended with him alive at all.  
  
Being awake, while exhausting, let him focus on what _did_ happen. The more he thought about it, the more Jacob knew there was no way he'd stop Sam while he surreptitiously gathered up his supplies. Jacob had pretended to be asleep to make the whole process a little easier on his brother.  
  
His _family_ was out there. Jacob couldn't ask him to stay away from Dean just because Walt was nervous (and Jacob was a little nervous too). The way Dean had looked at the pair of them, especially at Sam, said a lot. He wasn't going to _hurt_ his long lost little brother. If anything, it might hurt Dean to even think about it from his reaction to Sam's words. Telling him who Jacob was had flipped Dean around like a switch.  
  
Jacob flopped back onto the bed, staring upwards at the ceiling. He certainly _felt_ like he'd done the right thing. But the whole situation still felt so muddled and tenuous. He decided that the best way to clear his concerns would be to stay awake and wait, and make sure Sam made it back alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam is as predictable as Walt. Good thing he's got people looking out for him while he insists on sneaking out in the middle of the night, and we all know how much Dean is hoping to see him again.
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 27 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	16. Lead the Way

It was after midnight before the scraping sound of the block of wood being moved came again. A dark figure slipped surreptitiously back into the house before closing it up. Even the moonlight had grown dim with a constant covering of clouds blanketing the world, wrapping it up in the dark of night.  
  
Sam padded back inside, glancing around with widened eyes to make sure that no one else was in the living room. After years of living more in the walls than out in the open air, he’d begun to grow accustomed to the dark. Sam could certainly see better than Jacob, which was why his brother was sure to bring the small lightbulb and copper wiring with him. If he needed to, he could tap into one of the electrical cords in the walls and hook up a source of light, especially if he was coming with Walt and Sam to the kitchen. Jacob could carry more than both of them combined, but he needed to watch his footing on the way back when his hands and arms were full of their scavenged gains.  
  
Coming back into the room he shared with Jacob, Sam pushed aside the thick fabric drapery that served to section it off from the main room. Doing his best not to wake up his younger brother, He carefully put his satchel on the little desk chair, then started to pull off his jacket.  
  
Jacob had only dozed off once, but he was awake when Sam returned to their room. He hesitated, listening to the careful steps as Sam tried to sneak back to bed without him noticing. It would have worked flawlessly if Jacob hadn't been awake for Sam's leaving in the first place. The only tricky part would be letting Sam know he knew without scaring the shit out of him.  
  
Determining that a lost cause, Jacob sighed. "So, how'd it go?"  
  
Sam practically did a full body flinch. He tumbled against his chair since his arms were still in the jacket sleeves when he tried to raise them to a defensive posture. He and the chair ended up lying on the ground with the satchel nearby and his jacket only half off.  
  
Still tangled in his jacket and trying to play it off cool, Sam tried to pretend he hadn’t been gone for that long. “What, my trip to the bathroom? How do you _think_ it went?” He kept a steady voice the entire time, even with his pulse pounding in his head from the jump-scare.  
  
Jacob snickered and sat up to squint at the silhouette Sam made sprawled out on the floor. He tried not to make much more noise, lest Walt or Mallory hear, but anyone had to admit it was _kinda_ funny. "And you give _me_ shit for being a bad liar," he replied in a low voice, still colored with amusement.  
  
"I've been awake pretty much all night, dude. Think I'm gonna sleep very well with this many thoughts in my head? You ... you went and saw your brother, didn't you?" Jacob shifted to face Sam a little better, his eyes barely finding Sam's face in the almost nonexistent lighting. He’d still yet to learn the knack for seeing in the dark.   
  
"So? How'd it go?"  
  
Sam was silent for a minute, arranging the chair back in place and draping his jacket over it. His hand tightened on the wood. “It went good,” he said. If there was anyone he could talk to about this, Jacob would be the one. He wouldn’t think the worst of someone just because they were human, even after being captured.  
  
Sam took a seat on the chair, moving it so he was facing Jacob’s bed. “We mostly just talked. He didn’t… grab me at all. Just kept his distance after what happened earlier. Let me climb up the table on my own. I can tell he just wants to help, y’know? Lend a hand, get me up faster. But he held himself back.”  
  
Sam smiled in the night, letting himself remember the last few hours. Dean had taken out his laptop and started trying to find more information on Sam and Jacob’s disappearances, and if there were any others in the area. He’d even let Sam check out the massive machine, sitting back for a moment while his little brother stepped up on the warm casing to feel the hard drive whirr under his feet. Sam had never dreamed he’d be able to look that closely at a computer.  
  
“I asked him, and he said he isn’t on a hunt right now. In fact, he’s in town with no idea why. He got a text from a number he’s never heard of, telling him to come here, and that’s it. He thinks it’s our dad, but there’s no way to know.” Sam’s demeanor shifted from hopeful to sad. “Apparently, a few months back Dad left, and never came back. He pretty much abandoned Dean on his own, and hasn’t picked up a phone call since. All Dean’s got is his car and his weapons. Everything else… it’s just... _gone_.”  
  
It sounded so surreal. Exactly the opposite of what Jacob had been warned since he shrank. _Stay away from humans. They'll trap us, hurt us, take us away._ Jacob had feared that at first. And maybe, without Sam, that had been a very real possibility for him. But now ... Dean was breaking all of their expectations, starting when he lifted that vase away at Sam’s request.  
  
Even letting Sam climb on his own, without grabbing at him at all ... That alone was enough to set Dean far apart from other humans. Jacob was shrunk recently enough to know how he might have reacted. He was a little ashamed to admit to himself that he might have scooped a tiny person off the ground without thinking, too.  
  
It made him wonder what his own reaction to Sam might have been if they'd met before his curse. He might not be proud of the answer. Finding a man that barely stood the height of his finger… Jacob couldn’t deny how fascinating it would be.  
  
Hearing about their dad disappearing made more things click into place. Dean had been abandoned in his own way, losing his brother years ago and now losing his only remaining family, the father that Sam had said he idolized. Dean had seemed distant and cold at first, especially the first time he examined Jacob trapped in his hand. Manipulating him and propping up his arm with casual movements that just seemed so massive to his captive, Dean hadn't looked bothered by the terror on Jacob's face. Jacob’s reactions hadn't begun to chip away at the human until getting accidentally swept up with the bag.  
  
"Maybe ..." he began, unable to believe what he was about to suggest. Curiosity was begging him to find out more. "Maybe when you go sneaking back tomorrow I'll come with, if you don't mind a tag-along," he suggested. He chuckled and added, "I'm supposed to make sure you don't 'do anything stupid,' anyway."  
  
Sam laughed along with him. He knew all too well where those words came from. “You’re doing an _awesome_ job so far,” he jibed. “Walt would be proud, I’m sure.”  
  
Sam made his way towards his nest of blankets, brushing himself off from his earlier spill. “I wouldn’t mind having you along,” he told Jacob, “and I know Dean would like having you back. He feels awful for what he did earlier. He still has trouble meeting me in the eyes sometimes. Trying to hide what he feels, just like the old days.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Like he can hide how he feels _now_ ,” he joked. Dean was easier to read now that he wasn’t so cold and distant. Even a small amount of guilt on his face was plain as day to Sam. The new scale between them left him with no chance, Sam was certain.  
  
He got into bed, burrowing into the nest of covers until he felt sufficiently warm. “You’re welcome to come anytime,” Sam said. “And Dean told me he’ll be in the motel for as long as he needs to be.”  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Jacob mumbled back, lying back down and pulling his own blanket up. He turned over on his side and stared at the wall, willing his thoughts to settle enough so he could sleep. He had time to mull this over. He had time to figure out what he really thought about willingly going back towards the human that had trapped him.  
  
At least, regardless of the choice he made, he wouldn't be in it alone. Sam had been a source of support since the curse hit.  
  
That was a large part of why Jacob even considered giving Dean a chance. Sam had had more time to grow accustomed to his reduced size. Jacob, still fairly new to the scale of everything, still got caught up in the simple awe factor of how big humans - something _he_ used to be - were compared to him now. Nothing could drive a point like that home more than being snatched up by one with ease with no hope at all for escape.  
  
Jacob's nerves wrestled with what he logically knew. He knew that Sam trusted his enormous brother. Jacob trusted Sam, so he should be able to extend that to Dean, as well.   
  
Since he’d only been small for a total of three years, Jacob had started the game with a handicap and would require more reassurance before the rest of him could catch up to his logic. It wasn't easy to simply forget that trapped feeling when it had been so encompassing and ignorant of all the resistance he had to offer. He would never forget what the room looked like through the curved glass of the cheap vase, nor would he forget the relief he felt when it lifted away from him at last, cool air caressing his face.  
  
Jacob's eyelids fluttered closed at the same time as his resolve settled. He would go and see the human at least once. He wanted the chance to meet Sam's brother on better terms.  
  


* * *

  
The following day kept Jacob's thoughts busy. The pizza he'd brought back was enough to keep everyone's bellies full for a little while, but it didn't hide the fact that their food stores were nearing empty. They needed to restock, and Jacob had a feeling that another offering of food from Dean would not be so easily accepted by Walt.  
  
He was right. It was decided that a trip to the kitchens had to be made. Jacob followed Walt's lead this time, if nothing else to keep his adopted father's nerves placated after the news yesterday. Jacob really was new at all of this, and he didn't only risk himself if he messed up. He risked all of the people living within the motel's walls.  
  
Bearing that thought always in mind, he nodded at the appropriate times as Walt listed advice whenever he got the opportunity. He was extra watchful of his steps, taking care to make no sound in the walls. The skills he was learning were vital to his survival. Sam had already learned them, so Jacob was Walt's main pupil now.  
  
The kitchens were a good source of food, but they couldn't take from them too often or too much. The people who ran the motel would notice, and the last thing anyone needed was for them to decide the pest problem was bad enough to call someone in. Everyone's lives depended on it.  
  
That was where Jacob's strength came in very handy. Without it, they would have to rely on taking only from whatever might be left out. Jacob was able to open and close tupperwares and other food containers with relative ease, something even Sam couldn't hope to do. Thanks to his inexplicable gift, they were able to take a variety from more things, and take less from each container as a result.  
  
That strength also naturally left Jacob with the task of carrying most of their take back to their small home. He spent a good part of his day working with the others to get into food containers, stash things away, open more containers, and stash more food away. And then, when enough was collected to fill his arms and the extra bags they brought, came the task of carrying it home. By the time he was done, Jacob had gotten a decent workout.  
  
He lay on his bed in the late afternoon, watching dust float around in the bars of golden light that leaked into their home. He could hear Mallory in the other room, humming softly while she worked on something or other. All it took was for Jacob to turn over on his side to remember how comfortable the bed was, and how good of an idea a nap was.  
  
While Jacob was in the room resting from all the hard work that day, Sam occupied himself with storing the food that they'd come home with. With Jacob's help, they could get into food that was closed off to the others in the building, so they could afford to take a little more than they'd normally risk. The result was a full pantry for them, and he was the one that could reach the high shelves.  
  
Mallory barely reached Sam's chest. Small and petite, she bustled around with organizing all of the new items, and pointing out to Sam where she wanted things to go. He complied without argument, knowing better than to argue with her. After all, she knew this home inside and out after living in it with Walt since they were young.   
  
She did know to take advantage of Sam's height, and was always sure to have him around. He wasn't sure how tall he'd be if he was a human, not after living more than half of his life under four inches, but he hoped he'd at least reach Dean's height, if not higher. After all, they had the same genes, and their father was just as tall.  
  
Eventually, the hustle and bustle Mallory kept up during the day started to die down. Walt was out, working on his leather. They'd taken care of a rat not long before, and he kept busy working with the hide. Sam slipped back into his room, content to wait out the night in there with Jacob. He smirked when he saw Jacob fast asleep, but left him be for the time being.  
  
As night fell over the motel once more, Sam distractedly scribbled in his journal, unable to keep a single line of thought going. He continually glanced up at the light, waiting for it to be dark enough to risk visiting Dean again.  
  
Once that point was reached, he grabbed one of Jacob's older shirts and chucked it at his head. "Hey, wake up! You slept the day away!"  
  
Jacob screwed up his face and groaned as the light impact dragged him out of his nap. He reached a sluggish hand up to grab it and chuck it right back at Sam, but thanks to his half-asleep state he missed by several inches. Jacob blinked quickly to get used to the dark in the room, finding Sam's shadowy smirk.  
  
"I think I had the right to a little rest, I don't see you dragging half a pound of food around the motel," he mumbled irritably, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. There was already a faint smirk of his own betraying the fact that the crankiness was all for show.  
  
He covered a yawn with the back of his hand and finished waking up, thoughts settling into place. He remembered what they had agreed on and glanced around again. It was probably time for Sam to be sneaking out to visit his enormous brother again. Jacob had volunteered to go along this time.  
  
 _Oh boy._ He swung his legs off the bed and slipped his feet into his boots. Made by Walt, they were amazingly sturdy shoes. They held up very well despite the sometimes less-than-favorable terrain that made up the inside of the walls and under the floors.  
  
"Mom and Dad off to sleep already?" he asked. Jacob was almost tempted to suggest they wait a few extra minutes to be sure, but realized that it was definitely a stalling technique. It was pointless to try to delay it, especially since Sam would probably go with or without Jacob if it came down to it.  
  
“Yep,” Sam said brightly, grabbing his satchel. He already had everything packed and ready to go. After visiting with Dean the night before, he was feeling more confident about his brother. Sam had been defenseless when he was there but not once had Dean pushed his limits. After the day before, Dean was almost afraid to even reach for him. It made Sam sad to see Dean fearful around him, but he had to admit he didn’t mind the space.  
  
They both definitely needed time to adjust.  
  
“It’s been quiet out there for a half hour,” Sam informed Jacob. “I checked before waking you up. Everyone’s in bed, so we should be good to go for the night.” He hitched his bag up on his shoulder, looking intently at Jacob. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked, offering a way out. After everything that had happened, no one would blame Jacob for wanting space. Regardless of what they knew now, he’d spent the previous morning in terror for his life.  
  
Jacob paused, considering the offer. Then, he sighed and rubbed his eyes once more, getting the last lingering sleepiness out. "No, I'm good, I can go," he replied, putting on a faint smile. He hoisted his own bag onto his shoulder, and got to his feet. He felt like he owed it to Sam, if no one else, to give Dean a chance.  
  
The only thing that might have held Jacob back was fear of getting grabbed and trapped again, and he knew that wouldn't happen. Sam trusted Dean, and would be there with Jacob the entire time. Jacob's nerves came from his memories only. Leaving the ground behind far too quickly, having a vase dropped over him ... It didn't matter who it was, with those images so fresh in his mind it was hard for his instincts not to worry. Jacob needed to replace those memories with better ones.  
  
"Well, lead the way then," Jacob said in a low voice, gesturing to their doorway. Even if he did remember the way there, he couldn't be the first one to enter the human's room again. No matter how strong his resolve, that would be a stretch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened between Sam and Dean? Only they'll know for sure, but now Jacob's come around to the idea of seeing Dean... 
> 
> **Next:** Coming September 29 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	17. Second Chances

Sam led the way in silence. The motel air, filled with dust and the musty scent of the walls, hung heavy around them, the darkness closing in. With most of the patrons of the motel settling in for the night, the two brothers had to stay quiet. No hushed conversation floated between them, no good-natured joking or nudging.  
  
A young mouse passed by them, briefly snuffling against Sam first, then Jacob. Small whiskers tickled their hands as she squeaked at her two friends before moving on to her own destination. Sam smiled. With his dad and the others taking care of the rats in the walls along with any other larger pests that they found, it was a small haven for the mice. So long as none were seen by the humans, they wouldn’t have to worry about traps inside the walls, and everyone was cautious to avoid that possibility. The small folk and the mice always helped each other when they could.  
  
The vent appeared in the distance. Light poured in through the vertical openings, left open from when Sam had visited Dean the night before. He hadn’t bothered closing it behind him, hoping to avoid stacking any more guilt on his brother.  
  
Besides, they were proving even now that he’d be back again. Sam couldn't leave his brother on his own after finally finding him again.  
  
Once they came up alongside the vent, Sam paused. Where they stood, Dean wouldn’t spot them, giving them a moment to compose themselves before braving the room beyond. When Sam listened, he could catch the sound of keys clicking on the computer as Dean kept himself busy. _Getting by to get by_ echoed in Sam’s head, Dean’s sad voice filling his thoughts. Dean had kept himself going in a hollow, achingly lonely existence ever since losing their dad.  
  
Sam took a deep breath. “You ready?” he asked Jacob, eyes glued to the light streaming in.  
  
Jacob stared at the vent for a few seconds more, listening to the sounds beyond it. The familiar sound of plastic keys on a computer reached him. If he really listened, Jacob could also hear the steady breathing of lungs bigger than their home. He took his own deep breath, a small rush of air to clear his head.  
  
The lingering tickle of mouse whiskers against his hand, the light leaking into the walls through the ventilation shaft, and the room beyond it all left their marks on Jacob's thoughts. He was small, outmatched by almost everything. At the same time, his curse was recent enough that he still remembered what it'd be like to stand on a more equal scale with the human in that room. Jacob was straddling two different mindsets. One said _this is all normal_ and the other said _everything is too big for this to be real._  
  
Of course, both sides made him hesitate a second more.  
  
Realizing he'd paused, Jacob shook himself out of it, and nodded. He'd come this far. No reason to back out now.   
  
"Yeah. No time like the present," he replied in a hush, a sheepish chuckle working its way into his voice.  
  
Sam was the first out, slipping through the metal slits. He landed softly on the ground by habit, head snapping up to see if Dean was looking in their direction.  
  
The hunter continued on with his work. A little tension released from Sam’s shoulders, glad he could keep quiet enough to keep a hunter from noticing him. After his attempted rescue of Jacob had woken Dean up, he’d begun to doubt his skills.  
  
Jacob followed out of the vent as Sam started his trek across the floor, far more hesitant to come into the room. Neither spoke up while they went, instinctively trying to keep quiet and avoid the human’s notice. It might just be Dean, the only person that Sam could rely on growing up, but he was much larger and much more intimidating than when they’d been children.  
  
To say the least.  
  
Considering the table alone would be over 50 feet tall from Sam and Jacob’s perspective, Dean was immense. Boots that could crush a car, speed to outdistance that same car if he needed to… They were helpless compared to him, even with their weapons. If Sam and Jacob both struck Dean’s hand with their weapons and landed solid blows, he’d still be able to sweep them off the floor with his other hand, completely trapping them in seconds. He was not to be taken lightly by any stretch of the imagination, not by humans, not by monsters and certainly not by people smaller than his hand.  
  
To cross the room, Sam used the bed to shadow their path, the long mattress stretched above their heads. It was clear that Jacob appreciated that choice as much as he did. Only once they reached the foot of the bed did he hesitantly step out into the open.   
  
Dean noticed immediately. The hunter shifted in his seat, eyes landing on Sam and trailing over to Jacob, standing in the shadows of the bed. Dean’s eyes widened. “Hey, good to see you back,” he managed to get out. “I, ah… I don’t know if Sam told you, but I’m sorry about yesterday. Really. If I could take it back…”  
  
Jacob's eyes widened a little with the huge gaze settled on him. Even though he hung back in the shadows, standing as still as he could, the hunter had found him. Of course, Jacob knew his hiding place was far from foolproof, and he didn't intend to hide away from Dean anyway ... but it still unnerved him.  
  
The look in those eyes was far different from the look he'd seen when he first encountered them. If Jacob had had any doubt before of Dean's remorse, it was erased now.  
  
"No, it's, um," Jacob answered, almost startling himself with the volume he needed to use to make sure Dean heard him. He hadn't spoken that loudly in years, and his throat almost complained.  
  
"That ... that was yesterday and this is today, right?" he continued, his hand tightening on the strap of his satchel. Yesterday. He'd been trapped and afraid he might never see his family again, either by being taken away from them or ...  
  
Jacob rocked back on his heels once before taking a step or two to follow Sam out from the shadows. His nerves skyrocketed for a moment and Jacob had to let his eyes wander around the room. Just a few seconds with his eyes on anything but the giant staring down at him. As luck would have it, he found the vase that had been his prison barely more than a day ago. The fake flowers were returned to it and it was back on the dresser where it belonged.  
  
Jacob sighed and latched onto an opportunity. "Love what you've done with the place, that looks nice there," he jested. He had no idea if it would lighten some of the awkward tension, but at the very least joking about the very thing used to trap him helped Jacob move forward, if only a little.  
  
Dean cracked a hesitant smile at that, internally glad that Jacob was recovered enough to joke. “I figured the place needed a bit more color,” he played along, relieved that the vase wasn’t making Jacob edgy. He’d considered dumping it in the bathroom, just to put it out of sight.   
  
He still might if the guilt didn’t let up.   
  
Dean glanced over the table, nervously arranging the scattered books so there was enough space on the tabletop without crowding the other two. The laptop he left on its own, immersed as he was in his search to find out more about when they’d both been cursed.  
  
“If you want, you’re welcome to come join in,” Dean said when he was certain everything was out of the way. “I’ve got more pizza…”  
  
He trailed off as he saw Sam cross the open space on the floor between the bed and the table. It had been a day, and he still couldn’t believe how _small_ they both were. They couldn’t stand over four inches tall, yet he’d seen both of them climb down a sheer drop with nothing more than twine for Jacob and fishing line for Sam. Scavenged supplies and no safety features. It was nothing short of amazing.  
  
Jacob stuck close to Sam as they went, sending surreptitious glances in Dean’s direction from time to time. Dean held himself still, remembering how jumpy Sam had been the night before when he was moving around. He was just so much bigger than they were; every movement was exaggerated. It would take time for them to feel comfortable with him after the day before.  
  
He hoped they gave him that time.  
  
Dean straightened once the hooks both flew up, pushing down the desire to make sure they were fastened securely to the table. If they slipped, he just had to catch them. That was all.  
  
Sam was definitely the fastest climber between them. Dean had climbed a time or two in his line of work, but Sam put any of his skill with rope to shame as he darted right up.  
  
Once his hook was in place, Jacob followed Sam, putting all his focus on the twine in his hands again. Even on a normal climb, he couldn't risk distracting himself from the task, or he could fall. Today there just happened to be an extra large distraction in the room, watching them make their way up.  
  
Jacob wasn't about to be left behind on the ground, so he climbed steadily after Sam despite being much slower. The distance between the two brothers grew a little before Sam reached the top, leaving Jacob to catch up with him. That, at least, was nothing new. Jacob put a lot of deliberation into every move, trying to memorize the form before he pushed himself too much.  
  
By the time he reached the tabletop, too, he'd gotten himself good and sidetracked from the real reason they were there. One glance upwards brought it all back. A human. The one he'd volunteered to come and visit. At least, from up on the table, Dean didn't loom over them as much. He was still so much bigger, and far more powerful, but they weren't stuck on the floor staring up at a man the size of a building.  
  
Jacob left his hook in the table as usual, seeing no need to tuck it away into his bag. If he needed to make a quick exit (and he might, depending on the whims of his nerves), he could. One hand rested idly on his bag, right where the strap met the rest of it, and his fingers drummed absently on the well-worn leather. Even in only three years of owning it, Jacob had put that bag to good use.  
  
He wanted to ask what all the books were for, but held himself back. They looked like platforms of varying heights and sizes scattered around their area of the table. Jacob sized one up absently, wondering if he'd be able to lift it.  
  
Sam left his hook in the table as well, unable to stop his subconscious from agreeing with Jacob’s idea. The instincts ingrained into his mind already screamed at him constantly, telling him to _hide, dammit, get under cover!_ Sam pushed those away, determined to give Dean a chance no matter what anyone else said about his human size. He couldn’t help it any more than Sam or Jacob could help their sizes.  
  
Jacob being there with him gave Sam a huge boost in his confidence that maybe, just maybe, they could make it work. There was no reason aside from instinctive fear for Sam or the others to distrust Dean. Not after how remorseful Dean had turned out to be. Dean’s eyes were huge and hopeful past the regret whenever he glanced at Jacob or Sam.  
  
Sam was more assured than he’d been the night before as he let himself walk farther onto the table. Some of the nerves were starting to vanish with more exposure to Dean. He didn’t even flinch when Dean put a hand on the table to push himself to a stand now that they were both safely off the floor. He knew it was coming. There was no reason for him to be jumpy. For _any_ of them to be jumpy.  
  
Now maybe if he kept telling himself that, it would eventually sink in.  
  
“Okay, I’m just gonna… grab some pizza,” Dean said as he stood. “Sit tight, guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's in the room and ready to give this another go!
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 2 nd 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	18. Some Light Reading

Sam watched Dean walk the few feet to the mini-fridge, gathering his leftovers from the night before into his hands. He gave Jacob an encouraging grin while Dean was distracted by the microwave. “So, not too bad, right?”  
  
Jacob looked up from the tabletop. He'd glanced down when Dean stood, feeling the shuddering in the furniture from the simplest motions from the towering human. It was probably a good thing he'd looked down instead of up, because Dean was _tall_ next to the table. It would take more time to even consider getting used to such a size.  
  
In the meantime, Jacob would do his level best not to hold it against the human. It was no one's fault but the witch's, after all, and they weren't likely to find her anytime soon. Dean was just… himself, while they were the ones that were cursed. "Not too bad," he echoed, returning the smile.   
  
It wasn't a lie. Jacob was still full of nerves and his every sense was on alert for danger, but he could at least argue with himself that a good portion of that came from being in the wide open room when he'd become adjusted to hiding away in the walls, where things were closer, darker, safer. He just needed to keep telling himself things like that.  
  
He was as afraid of the idea of being seen by a human as anyone their size should be. In spite of those fears, his logical side put in a valiant effort with reminders that Dean had let him go, had come around despite their unnerving start. The man had turned out to be a decent person after all, and even before his startling turn he’d never been outright _cruel_ to Jacob.  
  
"I mean, free food two days in a row, what is going on here," Jacob quipped with a breathy chuckle, glancing over at the microwave as it hummed loudly, heating up the food Dean was once again freely offering. Jacob's shoulders relaxed a hair. "He ... he seems a lot different from yesterday." If the Dean Sam knew growing up had been buried, he was definitely resurfacing now.  
  
Sam let himself smile, his eyes brightening at the thought. “He’s more like he used to be when we were kids,” he agreed. “Like… I was never away.” He ducked his head down. The man he’d seen yesterday grabbing Jacob off of the ground would be hard to equate to the hopeful brother that shared the room with them now. Most of the darkness and empty drive had dropped away, softening his features from the intent, angry glare he’d had.   
  
Sam knew it would always be there, lurking underneath the surface. Darkness like that never actually left a person. Their father had carried his own darkness around with him since before Sam could remember, burned into him with the fire that killed their mother. With any luck, Dean could hold it back and keep from turning into someone unrecognizable.  
  
Maybe Sam could even help him.  
  
The microwave went off with a shrill _beeep!_ Dean gathered the food out of it, hissing slightly when he touched the hot cheese on top. “Sonovabitch,” he muttered before trying again, this time managing it without a burn.  
  
He came over to the table with two plates in his hands. “Might be a little hot,” he warned unnecessarily, a wry grin covering his face at his own mistake. He put one plate near Sam and Jacob and sat down with the second for himself, giving them one slice and himself two. “Any you don’t finish, I can always take care of,” he said with a wink, leaving a napkin nearby before his hand retreated.  
  
“Thanks Dean,” Sam said, staring up at him.  
  
A little of the worry in Dean’s eyes dropped away. “No problem, kiddo,” he said, softening.  
  
Jacob nodded his own thanks, but opted to wait to dig into the pizza, once again seeing plenty of heat rising from it and making the view of the books beyond the plate waver. He held out a hand to feel the warmth radiating outwards, and took a deeper breath to appreciate the aroma. He could hardly believe that it had been so long since he even had _access_ to pizza. Now he was going to eat it for the second day in a row.  
  
Jacob could not help but notice how easily Sam and Dean got along. Now that he was here, it was clear that they had grown up together. Sam, though his stance might still be watchful just for practicality's sake, had clearly relaxed around the human, especially compared to the day before. It was a stark contrast to the pose he struck with his trusted knife when standing between Dean and the vase, trying to offer Jacob some defense.  
  
Dean had the look of an older brother about him now. He looked happy, _relieved_ just to have Sam there. Even calling him _kiddo_ had a brotherly feel to it.  
  
Jacob shifted his bag on his shoulder and sighed faintly. He couldn't help but get that nagging feeling again. The feeling of looking in on something from the outside. He _wasn't_ a Winchester brother. He had only heard about their childhood from Sam well after the memories were made. Now he was seeing their bond in action and Jacob found himself wondering.  
  
If… _when_... Dean left, would Sam go with him?  
  
Jacob knew the temptation had to be there, because he would have it, too. The temptation to try to go back to his family like before. Things would be different forever, but the thought would be filling Jacob's mind if he were in Sam's shoes. A chance to get away from the place where his life had effectively come to a screeching halt was practically dangling in front of Sam’s face.  
  
Jacob glanced to the side and made his way to the book lying nearby. He took a seat on it and stretched his legs out in front casually, resting again after their long walk there. "So... what's all the light reading for?" he asked, latching onto a conversation topic and working up the nerve to actually look at Dean and direct the question right to him.  
  
Dean poked at his pizza once before opting to let it sit just like the others were doing. “Well,” he said, warming up to the topic, “I hit up the library in town earlier today and grabbed some books on local history. I’m trying to see if you and Sam are the only two that ever got hit by this thing, and if there’s a pattern in it. I found a few other disappearances, like the ones that my dad was chasing when we got attacked, but nothing helpful.”  
  
He frowned. “When you shrank down, you were the only one in town that year that I could find, so she was picking and choosing her victims. Maybe to avoid my dad coming after her again. I know he’s always been looking and trying to find… Sam’s killer.” A small laugh escaped him. “Thank god we were wrong about that.”  
  
Dean gestured at the book Jacob was sitting on as he finally picked up his slice of pizza. “Then there’s a few books on witchcraft and curses. Just tryin’ to find anything I can to figure this out.”  
  
Sam smirked as he knelt down and sliced some of the pizza off with his knife, then a second piece for Jacob. “Your favorite part,” he joked at Dean as he tore a shred of napkin and held out the pizza for Jacob. “I remember how much you and ‘research’ used to get along.” In an aside to Jacob, he went on, “Dean used to bribe me to do it for him if Dad ever asked him to look anything up. I didn’t even know the stuff I was checking out was _real_ at first.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, looking put upon. “Hey, just because I put you up to research a few times doesn’t mean I can’t do it on my own.” In fact, in the lifestyle of a hunter, he’d become an expert at tracking patterns. No hunter made it far without appreciating the use of research. It had its place as much as the fighting and strategy did.  
  
Jacob chuckled at their banter. It made their relationship as brothers even more obvious than before. While he took the first tentative bite of the hot food, he mused about how different their childhood had been, by most standards. Jacob's was so mundane by comparison. His toughest research topics were about presidents and history.  
  
Nothing like witches and monsters. _Werewolves, he said. Those things are actually out there. Holy shit._ When Sam had first started telling Jacob about all the things out there, the only thing that made him believe was the fact that he'd been shrunk down by a curse. He had to believe that things could be out there when one of those things had already _found_ him.  
  
Jacob glanced behind him at the cover of the book he'd chosen as a seat. The embossed title was so worn out that most of the letters had rubbed off. It definitely had the look of the kind of book most people wouldn't pick up and give a single ounce of credit. How often had a book like that saved some hunter's ass? It was nuts to think about.  
  
Before shrinking, Jacob's life had been so _normal._ Money was tight sometimes and there were a few things that set him apart from other kids, but nothing like Dean bribing Sam to research some monster for him without telling him all the information was _real_. If he hadn't been cursed by that witch, Jacob never would have known about the hunter lifestyle at all.  
  
Mulling over what he'd heard, it didn't sound like the witch would be any easier to find than a needle in a haystack, and she probably wanted it that way. Operating quietly, making kids 'disappear' to get her kicks before disappearing again herself. Ripping families apart; it was doubtful that many of her victims found their families again like Sam had. Sam might actually be the first.  
  
"Do you think, if you find her, I mean, do you think this curse can be broken?" he asked, this time leveling the question to both brothers.  
  
Sam shrugged helplessly. “Maybe. I mean, there’s no reason we know of that it _can’t_ be broken. But we never heard of anything like this before it happened to me. Most witch curses kill the target. They don’t just shrink them and leave them in limbo the way it did to us.”  
  
Dean scowled at the table. “There’s always a way. We’re going to figure it out, whatever it takes. Up until now, her victims haven’t been found. That means hunters didn’t know what to look for. Now that I do, I’m gonna find a way. And then we’ll gank the bitch for good measure. That way she doesn’t break up any _more_ families.”  
  
Sam didn’t respond, but, lowering his head to his pizza, he smiled at Dean’s predictable determination. Some things, at least, had never changed. It brought to mind all the times Dean had watched out for him growing up, no matter what. Like when they’d run out of food a few times while their dad had been too caught up on hunts to check in, and Dean had lifted what he could from local convenience stores. It would mark him as a delinquent if anyone found out, but they had no other way. They were all alone, with no one to watch out for them aside from each other.  
  
Dean smirked suddenly. “Plus, if we get you two back to normal, I’ll even let you be the ones to stab her in the throat.”  
  
Jacob's eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows, unable to hide his shock at the vehemence in those words. He quickly reined in his expression. The violent response was something he could probably understand if he tried, but he'd never thought about things that way. He'd never had a _reason_ to think of things in such a way.  
  
The most violent Jacob had ever gotten was in a fight with a rat, where he'd helped Sam and Walt take the rodent down. Jacob himself had barely done any damage, giving it a shallow wound on one flank. His main contribution had been yanking it back by the tail, giving the others their chance to descend on the confused thing. Sam had never displayed an ounce of hesitation during the fight.  
  
"Y-yeah. Of course. Though I better leave it to Sam, he's been dealing with it longer than I have," he replied with a sheepish chuckle. Jacob could easily see himself taking on a huge animal to survive if he had to. Survival got a lot tougher when he was reduced to a fraction of his size. But, even though he harbored plenty of well-deserved resentment for her ... he couldn't imagine  _himself_ actually killing the witch. That was, apparently, one more thing about his background that set him apart from the brothers.  
  
Dean and Sam were the children of a hunter, and so their view on things was different than Jacob’s.  
  
Sam hopped up on the book next to Jacob to eat his own piece of pizza. Nudging him with an elbow, he gave his adopted brother a smirk of his own. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of all the hard work around here,” he joked.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes and elbowed Sam back. "Will you really?" he shot back, looking incredulous. "Well I won't stop you, if you want _all_ the hard work. That's pretty damn noble of you, Sam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's done a 180 since the last time Jacob saw him, and it's time for bigger things! Like... Research! and Pizza!
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 4 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	19. Jacob Andris: Missing and Presumed Dead

Dean watched them interact with their tiny motions and softer voices, feeling the separation forced on him by size difference. He’d never be able to elbow Sam like that, not without risking injury for his small brother. Hell, he didn’t even know if Sam would want him that close, considering his actions the day before. Dean was a potential danger to his _own brother._  
  
 _But Sam’s alive, and nothing else matters,_ repeated once more in Dean’s thoughts. His baby brother was back. Not dead. Never dead. Only lost and abandoned, and it was time for Dean to make up for that in any way he could.  
  
Dean took note of the nail now attached to Jacob’s satchel. “That nail… I didn’t grab that by accident yesterday, did I? It was yours the entire time… What do you use it for?”  
  
Jacob glanced up, the low rumble of Dean's voice impossible to miss. The question brought his eyes back to the nail secure in its loop on his satchel. He'd always thought it looked a bit like a sword, but he rarely made use of it as a weapon.  
  
"Yeah, that's mine. One of the first things I found on my own around here, actually." He nudged his bag a little, shifting the nail to the side so the simple leather loop might be easier to see. It was hard to tell if it worked, but he tried.  
  
"As for how I use it ... well, self defense, if I have to, so really the hope is that I _don't_ need it," he admitted. If he'd had the chance the day before, he'd have tried to use the makeshift weapon on Dean. He had a feeling the hunter would realize that, and they both knew how poorly that might have gone for Jacob. He’d trapped Jacob while he was deciding if he was a _threat._ In the long run, it was good that Dean never realized the nail was carried as a weapon.  
  
“Like Sam’s knife,” Dean surmised, his gaze flicking briefly to his brother just in time to catch a nod. He pursed his lips, knowing what his first reaction to an attack would have been. At the very least, Jacob would have ended up clenched in a tighter fist with less room to breathe, let alone struggle, while Dean decided what to do with him. The strength Dean used might even have been harsh enough to injure him.  
  
That was in the past. “You and Sam need all the help you can get,” Dean went on. Their size alone would keep them from proper self defense in most cases. When a finger could outsize them, getting their hands on any weapon possible was a desperate but necessary move. They had to _try._  
  
Dean finished up his pizza, brushing off his hands and crumpling up his napkin into a ball. “Maybe before I head out I can give you some pointers,” Dean offered. “I’ve been training most of my life, so I’m pretty good at self-defense. It’s the only way to keep alive in this line of work.”  
  
Once again, Jacob found himself surprised by Dean's words. He watched the human easily crumple up a napkin wider than some of the passages he and Sam used in the walls. Dean probably _could_ teach him some valuable things about defending himself, if Jacob took up that offer. He worked on finishing up his own pizza while he mulled it over.  
  
"I ... I guess maybe," he conceded. "I don't know much about fighting. Mostly I go with 'point the sharp end of the nail towards the enemy' and that's all I got." There wasn't finesse to it, but so far Jacob had only had to fight once with it. If it came to a one-on-one fight with a rat, he had a feeling all his strength wouldn't matter. Back when he was human sized, Jacob had simply relied on being one of the tallest of his peers to avoid getting into fights. The notion almost made him laugh now.  
  
 _'Before I head out.' Wonder when that'll be._  
  
It was odd thinking Dean might stick around because of one of the smaller people. For so long, he’d repeated the mantra of _don’t be discovered_ , lest everyone come to danger. Now they had a human around that would never hurt them. All because of Sam. Once again, Jacob wondered if Dean would have an extra travel companion with him when he did inevitably leave.  
  
With his food gone, Jacob began to wonder if he should leave the brothers to their catching up.  
  
Dean leaned over, tossing the napkin lightly into the trash that wasn’t far from his foot. “Good starting point,” he grinned. “Pointing it the other way might not end the way you want.” He pulled the laptop closer by an inch, staring at what he’d been researching when they’d come in. Jacob’s disappearance when his family was in town. _Mother mourns the loss of her only son_. A small image below was of a young boy, only 14, smiling at the camera. Probably taken from a yearbook picture from the look of things.  
  
Resting his arms on the table, Dean switched over to what Sam had internally dubbed ‘hunter mode’ when he’d been around the night before. Dean needed to know what he could about Jacob’s vanishing, but he also realized that the ‘mother’ the article mentioned… well, there was no reason Dean wouldn’t be able to track her down. That was one of the things he was best at, after all.  
  
“So,” he lead in, “I know it’s been a few years, but there’s no reason I can’t try and track your family down. You might have shrunk down, but you’re still alive, and I’m sure your mom would want to know her son survived.” Dean shrugged, slightly self-conscious under the gazes of two people so small. It felt like every move, even putting his arms on the table, could affect them in a monumental way. “If we can find where she lives or works, I can take you home.”  
  
Jacob froze as the offer settled over him. It worked its way into every part of his brain and felt like a tornado as it shredded some of the walls he’d built around his thoughts as if they were never there in the first place. Behind them was hope.  
  
Jacob had long since had to give up on the idea that his mother would come back to _Trails West._ She wouldn't know he was right there, perhaps only rooms away, when she found that he was missing. As much as he used to imagine her miraculously finding him, he'd long known that it wouldn't happen that way, especially after she came to associate the place with her lost child.  
  
Thanks to his new size, he'd never once considered going to find _her_ instead. He opened his mouth, and then realized he didn't have anything to say yet and closed it again. A simple hope was blossoming in his chest, the thought of seeing the only family he had left after years of thinking she was gone for good.  
  
After years of thinking he might start to forget what she even _looked_ like.  
  
"You-" Jacob began, but had to clear his throat to find his voice again. "You would help me find her?"  
  
Dean nodded solemnly, knowing how much a simple trip for him could change Jacob’s entire life. And how harrowing it must seem for a person that had adjusted to living in one place and _knowing_ he could never leave, even if it had only been three years. “Of course I would. There’s nothing more important than family, and no worse hell than thinking they’re dead. I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what I did when I lost Sam. We might not have been able to stop her from losing her son once, but we can at least bring him back for her.”  
  
Sam nudged Jacob again, this time lighter. “Maybe I’ll get to meet _your_ family,” he said with a grin. They’d traded stories so many times it was almost surreal to consider that they finally had the chance. First Dean, now hopefully Jacob’s mom.  
  
“We can make it a regular road trip,” Dean said, warming right to the idea when he heard Sam mention coming along. “Let you two get the chance to see more than these four walls, and hopefully get you home where you belong.” He ended meeting Jacob firmly in the eyes, sincerity in his voice.  
  
Jacob felt a shudder under that gaze, but it was less out of nerves and more out of simple, pure elation at the idea. He'd get to go home. See his mother again. He wouldn't have anything close to a _normal_ life, but he'd have his life back. He was ecstatic for a chance to introduce his mom to Sam, the one who took him under his wing and helped him survive all the time he was missing.  
  
"A road trip," he echoed with a laugh, almost incredulous. He used to love traveling like that when he could. It was yet another thing he thought he'd never even consider again, and yet here he was, considering it.  
  
Even the fact that he'd have to put a lot of his trust in Dean to manage it probably wouldn't stop him. Jacob was still a bit nervous about enormously powerful hunter, but if this panned out, that didn't matter. So he had to believe Dean would help; he was the only person around who _could._  
  
"Yeah, okay ... What do you need to find her?" he asked, keeping eye contact with Dean despite how big those eyes were.  
  
Dean frowned thoughtfully. “Anything you remember that you think is useful. Name, address, license plate… those are good to start with. If she’s moved I shouldn’t have too much trouble tracking her down. One thing that’s good about being a hunter is we’ve got _plenty_ of tricks up our sleeves.” He smirked confidently.  
  
With a good deal of amusement, Dean pulled a second wallet out of his jacket, flashing an FBI badge at Jacob and Sam that had his face on it. It was just one of his many fake IDs that he used on a daily basis to get to the information or scenes that he needed too. Fake IDs were some of the most invaluable items for a hunter, and he’d made them all himself at various Kinkos’ locations. “If it’s out there, I can find it.”  
  
Putting that back, he straightened and gestured to the laptop. “If you want to watch, you and Sam can hop on. I mean, it isn’t like you guys take up much space. That way, you can tell me if I’ve got the right woman.”   
  
Having Sam standing on the laptop the night before had certainly brought a rare smile to Dean’s face. His brother had been awestruck at the sight of the machine, something he hadn’t been able to see up close before. Dean was starting to realize exactly how sequestered the pair was, living in this motel and keeping out of sight all those years. Jacob might have had the opportunity to use a laptop before he was cursed, but Sam hadn’t. Aside from watching other people through the vents while they were online, Sam had no experience whatsoever with the newer technology.  
  
From the glint in Sam’s eyes, that was going to change as soon as possible, with Dean’s help. Indeed, Sam was the first to hop down off the book, excited to have the chance again. Dean would never say _no_ to him, but Sam had been loathe to ask the night before.  
  
Jacob wasn't so quick to stand from the book. He set his napkin down and rested his hands on his legs, drumming his fingertips lightly, but hesitated. That laptop looked newer than the clunky ones he'd seen before he got cursed, though he'd never had one himself. Regardless of how new it may be, it was _huge_ to him now. The screen alone wouldn't be out of place in a cinema.  
  
The whole machine was built for someone so much larger. The someone sitting right in front of it, as a matter of fact. Dean, the human that had gone from pinching Jacob's arm in his fingers the day before to smugly showing off a fake FBI badge. Dean was much closer to the playful vibe Jacob had glimpsed when he punched the vase, only a day after finding out his brother was alive. That momentary shift was making more sense. It was the _real_ Dean coming out after years of being buried.  
  
Even so, Jacob hesitated to put himself closer. He knew he was already within easy reach if Dean wanted to get to him. Dean hadn't once brought his hands close, except to leave the pizza nearby and show off his fake ID. He hadn't done anything so far that threatened Jacob or Sam.  
  
He was just _big._ The sheer difference in size took getting used to. Jacob would need time.  
  
Not to be left behind by the book, Jacob took a few steps after Sam. Getting closer and closer to the laptop and to Dean seemed to take an age and yet happened far quicker than he expected. Up until that moment, Jacob had been willfully ignorant of the perspective. With each step he'd have to tilt his neck farther back just to keep Dean's face in sight. Sitting next to the table, his torso formed a wall of flannel that moved gently in time with his deep breaths.  
  
Jacob paused when the laptop was still several inches away, one hand closed tightly on the strap of his bag and the other shoved in his hoodie pocket. He leaned a little and looked upwards, glancing over the screen curiously before his eyes trailed back to the base. The keys looked well-worn, smooth from constant use. Jacob could even see where Dean's hands rested on the laptop as he worked.  
  
Sam saw Jacob hesitate, and felt his footsteps halt. He didn’t want Jacob to feel like he was on his own, especially considering the way Dean loomed over them (and the way he’d loom even more once he was actually _working_ on the laptop). Dean was waiting patiently, his eyes tracking their progress across the table while he sat there.  
  
Sam gestured Jacob over. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine up there. Dean had me help last night with some of the research.” He wore a proud smile. “Just pointing out the rooms that we knew the witch had hit up, since none of the papers ever mentioned the fact.” He didn’t bring up how nervous he’d been at the start, since it required him to stand on the laptop while Dean worked, resulting in him being surrounded completely. Either arm formed walls taller than he was in some places, powerful muscles hidden just under the flannel shirt.  
  
But this was Dean, and they were safe. Those muscles weren't going to hurt them. It wasn't Dean's fault he was so big.  
  
Jacob straightened a little, intrigued that Sam had already tried the laptop out. He hadn't been sure they even effectively _could_ at their size. He glanced over the keys again, imagining trying to type on them, before taking a few more steps to close the distance to the laptop. Close enough that he could feel warm air coming out of its vents and faint vibrations in the table as the hard drive whirred away.  
  
Following Sam's lead, Jacob stepped up onto the base of the laptop like it was nothing more than a single step in a staircase. His hands remained as they'd been, one gripping his bag and the other hidden in his pocket, to rein in any nervous jitters they might have. He looked down almost immediately, feeling the computer humming beneath them. Heat radiated up through his boots.  
  
Once on the laptop itself, Jacob finally looked at what was on the screen. He almost balked at the sight of his own picture, himself a few years younger than he was now. The photo was of a smile he didn't sport as often as he used to, and his cheeks were fuller, signs of better access to food. But it was still him, even wearing the grey hoodie that had shrunk with him.  
  
"Guess you already got started," he muttered, glancing over the article with a furrowed brow. He didn't turn to look at Dean yet. The article held his attention even more than the looming presence behind him.  
  
“Every little bit helps,” Dean replied, awed at the sight of the two small guys standing right in front of him. Actually _standing_ on the laptop. _Holy shit._ There was plenty of room to spare on either side of them (luckily, since Dean still needed to use it). “The article is pretty sparse, just telling us when it happened, and where. No one had any idea what happened to you, and you were presumed dead. Like Sam.”  
  
Sam remained at Jacob’s side. It made it easier for Dean to use the laptop, with them taking up such a small space. Dean couldn’t help but feel self conscious all over again when he moved to put his hands on the keys. The sheer difference between his hands and their entire bodies would never fail to shock him. If he wanted to, he could close either of them in a fist and no one would know he had an entire person in his hand.  
  
Now that he knew about them, he wouldn’t make the mistake of trapping them again. He hunted _monsters,_ not kids that had been cursed and trapped for years. Fragile, vulnerable kids that had to fight for survival. If he saw John Winchester any time soon, they’d have words to exchange about the message he’d been sent.  
  
Without context, he’d almost hunted the wrong people, and that was unforgivable.  
  
Hands settled in place, Dean craned his neck so he was staring down at the pair of adopted brothers. While using the laptop, he was almost directly overhead, another perspective he’d never expected to find. It was almost like he was standing on a bridge, staring down at the passersby as they walked along the sidewalk.  
  
Jacob couldn't help but slowly take stock of what now surrounded him. Directly behind was Dean's chest, and Jacob could hear the muffled gales of air filling those lungs. To either side was an arm thicker than he was tall, and in front, gigantic hands with fingers the size of Jacob or bigger settled on the keys.  
  
They were surrounded, and Jacob thought about the first time this had happened to him. Dean had practically dropped him to the table, resting his arms on either side in a very purposeful move to keep Jacob from running away.   
  
Trapping him.  
  
Now, Sam and Jacob were trapped again, except there was a sense that if they asked, Dean would move out of the way immediately. Jacob squeezed the leather strap of his bag tighter and willed himself to commit that to memory.  
  
Dean spoke in a low voice. “Anything you can tell me will help, but her name and address will be the best place to start, along with a phone number and license plate if you know it.”  
  
Jacob took a slow breath and finally looked straight up. His neck craned all the way back, and he could see Dean's face overhead even though the human technically sat behind them. They really were surrounded by the man. Jacob had to look straight ahead again or risk unbalancing himself and tipping backwards.  
  
"Well," he began, slipping into memories as he thought. "Her name's Mariana Andris and we lived in Iowa. Carlisle, it's like half an hour out of Des Moines ... 218 Fourth street. I ... don't remember her plate number and I doubt she still has the same little tracfone." Or, to Jacob, decently big tracfone. One for which he wasn't positive he knew the number anyway.  
  
He hadn't dwelled on memories like that in a long time. When Jacob realized that he was stuck at the motel with no way of reaching her, he chose instead to focus on important memories, since they were all he would have. After losing his dad, he'd had a lot of practice prioritizing, and even then he knew things would fade. So he reminded himself what she looked like and sounded like. He thought about how she'd tried to get him to learn to cook by refusing to make anything on Thursdays, and how she kept a drawer full of the most random junk and yet _always_ seemed to find exactly what she was looking for in there.  
  
"The name oughta be enough to get started, right?" he asked, glancing upwards again.  
  
“Definitely,” Dean said distractedly as he started to type. The address was on the screen first, giving them a satellite view of Jacob’s old home. While he worked, he was cautious to keep away from Sam or Jacob, doing his best to give them space.  
  
Even as he worked carefully to avoid bumping into them, it gave him a warm feeling in his chest, one that he’d lacked for over a decade, to see Sam standing down there. Protected, and in no danger whatsoever. In fact, while they watched the screen change between web pages, Sam settled down to sit, his small satchel next to him and his legs stretched out so his boots sat close to the keyboard. He wrapped his arms around his knees, occasionally glancing around at the arms to either side while he waited.  
  
It didn’t take long for Dean to discover that Mariana Andris no longer lived at that property. She’d moved, not long after losing Jacob. _Probably avoiding the memories…_ Dean thought. Just like the way his amulet had reminded him of Sam all those years, Mariana’s memories had to be far more pervasive since they were attached to the entire property.   
  
Remembering Jacob growing up, and years of having him around would have surged up around every corner. It wasn’t hard to figure out that something had happened to his father. Jacob hadn’t said a word about him, and neither had Sam. Either the father was completely estranged from the mother and son to the point of ignoring his existence, or he’d passed away. She really must have been all the kid had.  
  
The pain Jacob must have felt when he’d lost his mother must have been strong. Losing one parent made you want to hold on to the one you had left. Dean knew that from sharp experience. Yet John had left, abandoning Dean to go off on his own and do god knows what. Dean could only hope that his dad didn’t get himself killed like that.  
  
His eyes lit up as the next screen loaded. “Here we go. Mariana Andris now lives on Baybrook Lane.” The image from Google Maps caught his eye. “Huh. Nice digs,” he said to himself. “Got an address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it possible...?
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 6 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love! For anyone who missed the announcement, be sure to check out our newest sneak peek for [Brothers Consulted](http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/151263941365/sneak-peek-of-brothers-consulted)!


	20. Hopes and Plans

Jacob didn't realize that he'd inched forward while the search flipped through webpages before his eyes. Not until Dean's thumb landed on the space bar an inch in front of his boots. Shuffling back a few steps, Jacob stopped near where Sam had settled. Even so, his eyes remained glued to the map on the screen.  
  
An aerial view of his hometown stretched across it, decently sized houses surrounded by flourishing green trees and expanses of healthy green grass. _Baybrook Lane,_ Jacob mouthed the words. It wasn't the biggest house on the block, but the neighborhood was a clear improvement from what he remembered.  
  
Having an address gave Dean's offer an even more tangible feel. Jacob was excited despite the nerves that lingered over the way Dean's hands and arms still surrounded them. He _couldn't_ let the feeling bring his hopeful mood down. After three years, he knew where his mother was, and he had a way to get to her. He sat down abruptly next to Sam, a smile slowly overtaking his face.  
  
Sam had gotten his family back, his brother who had taken care of him from the very start. Jacob remembered the heartfelt moment the day before when they'd realized who they found. He was already imagining getting the same kind of reunion with his mother. It'd be startling to be swept up like Sam had been ... but she was family. If that happened, he'd deal with it. It was worth seeing her again.  
  
Sam glanced over at Jacob from his own seat, spotting the smile on Jacob’s face. He couldn’t blame him. After discovering that he’d finally found Dean the night before, he felt the same way. Like there was hope, a possibility that things might change for them.  
  
As much as he loved his adopted family who’d taken him in, sheltered him from the world, Sam didn’t really belong here. There was always an itch inside, the desire to learn, to discover new things and explore. Before Dean had returned, he’d had no way to scratch that itch. It wasn’t safe to venture beyond the walls. The risk to all of them was simply too great. Events had proven that in more ways than one.  
  
Even his brother could be dangerous. Sam knew that now. Dean could trap them both, take them away against their will. One of his boots alone could fill half their home, and a single misstep would leave Sam or Jacob broken if they even survived it.  
  
Despite those facts, Sam wanted to trust Dean. He _needed_ to trust Dean. It was the only thing he could do, deep down in his heart, and he knew that Jacob could trust Dean just as much. The hunter was proving himself worthy with each cautious movement. He had a long way to go, but he was working at it. He was _trying_.  
  
“You up for it?” Sam asked before his thoughts took him even further off course. He already knew the answer he expected to get, and was already committed in his mind to going with Jacob to give him support in any way he could. After three years of watching out for Jacob, they really were brothers.  
  
Jacob broke out of his hopeful thoughts to look over at Sam. The encouragement on his adopted brother's face lifted his spirits higher. Jacob hadn't been this hopeful about anything in a very long time. After seeing the shift in Sam's demeanor barely more than 24 hours after reuniting with his brother, Jacob couldn't help but want that for himself. He had an ache in his heart that he hadn’t acknowledged in so long.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder at Dean, the human he'd need to trust a little more to make it a reality. Dean could get Jacob home, but in the meantime he'd be responsible for the shrunken teen.  
  
He'd be in control.  
  
"I ... yeah, I think so," Jacob finally said, after one last appraising look at the arms and hands resting nearby. He'd trusted Dean a lot just staying on the laptop. What was a little more? "I mean, I have to _try,_ right? I'd hate myself forever if I didn't."  
  
“Whatever you decide, I’ll be right there with you,” Sam said reassuringly. He clapped Jacob on the shoulder. “We’ll _both_ be here for you,” he amended, knowing that was as true as it could get.  
  
Dean sat back from the computer, moving his arms away from them. “It’ll only take us eight hours to get there, less if I push it. You’ll be back with your family in no time at all, if that’s what you decide to do.”  
  
Sam grinned brightly. “Plus, now you’ll get to check out that house she has! Can you imagine if there’s someone else living there in the walls? We could both scope out the place once you settle in.” He was clearly warmed to the subject, excited at the prospect of Jacob having an entire home of his own to explore, one where they didn’t need to worry about mousetraps, or being caught if they happened to slip outside the walls at one point.  
  
Jacob stared up, where the Google Maps image of his mother's new home still filled the computer screen. Eight hours away. He was less than a day's drive from his family; the distance would have been impossible for him to cover on his own. It wouldn't be safe, with the threat of animals and humans only compounding with the immense distance. Now, home might as well be as easy to reach as the computer keys arrayed in front of him.  
  
"We'll definitely have to check it out," he agreed, equally keen on the thought. Whether or not there were smaller folk like them hidden in the walls, the fact that they'd be exploring his home was enough to make him look forward to it.  
  
 _Once you settle in._ Jacob's heart warmed more and more. He laughed gamely, adding, "If she'll let me out of her sight for more than a minute."  
  
Going home ... It'd be a massive adjustment. Jacob still wouldn't have a normal life, though things might be a little easier. He'd have to stay a secret, most likely, even from his extended family. It would simply be too dangerous for him and for anyone else at this size. He couldn't risk people like Walt or Mallory or Sam being exposed to the wrong person.  
  
It only took one human to be catastrophic, as Jacob could have discovered if Sam hadn't come to his aid.  
  
"Our luck finally turned around, Sam," he commented suddenly, turning to face his adopted brother. He sent one glance up at Dean, trying to include him in his optimistic musings. "You got Dean back and soon ... Soon I'll have mom back. Who would have thought?!"  
  
“You both deserve it,” Dean interjected, giving them a warm smile. With Sam already committed to going with Jacob to watch out for him, Dean knew he’d have his brother around. It was certainly going to be odd… He had no idea where Sam would even sit in the car. A pocket? The seat?  
  
Wherever Sam ended up, Dean knew they’d figure it out. They were finally back together, after impossible odds. Dean wasn’t going to let this second chance - or Sam - slip through his fingers.  
  
“Just let me know when you want to head out,” Dean continued. “All I got’s my duffel, and the rest I can take care of.”  
  
Sam nodded, pulling himself back up on the laptop. He swung his satchel over his shoulders. “We should at least let our family know what’s happening,” he decided. “They’d think we got ourselves captured if we just vanished like that.”  
  
Jacob winced slightly, thinking about trying to break this news to Walt. Walt, who had taken him in and helped Jacob to learn what it took to survive at such a small size. Who'd given him the bag that sat leaning against his side now, containing everything Jacob owned.  
  
The man who had told Jacob not to let _Sam_ do anything stupid. What would he say when he heard what Jacob wanted to do? What _wouldn't_ he say might be a better question. Thankfully, Jacob had Sam to back him up, and he had a feeling Mallory wouldn't let it become a full-blown argument, either. Jacob had never been at odds with Walt before, and he didn't want to start now, but he had to do this. His lingering nerves around Dean weren't enough to turn him away.  
  
"You're right," he conceded, standing himself and stepping down from the laptop. "Tough as that's gonna be."  
  
It was almost weird not to have the surface of the tabletop buzzing beneath him as much as the computer did. The cheap furniture was cold by comparison, and Jacob noticed the difference right away. An involuntary shiver rushed up his spine, a mark of the cold he was adjusted to.  
  
His hand found the strap of his bag again, a sort of anchor for himself, as he looked up at Dean. The human was so big, and so close. If he wanted, he could reach out at any second and grab Jacob and Sam in one hand. He'd had the opportunity to do that all this time and yet he _hadn't,_ which went a long way towards helping Jacob set aside his first terrifying meeting with Dean.  
  
"Dean ... thanks again, for offering to help. You didn't have to and it'll take up a bunch of your time, and I got nothing to give you in return, so ... thanks. Really." They were off to a better start than before. Jacob was facing Dean (looking almost straight up at him, but it still counted) without a glass prison trapping him there. Before he could change his own mind or question what he was doing, Jacob let go of his grip on the bag to hold out a hand to shake.  
  
Dean blinked in surprise at the sight of that miniscule hand extended in his direction. After everything that had happened with Jacob, it was the last thing he’d ever expected.  
  
But the hand was out, and Dean wasn't about to leave him hanging. With a slight laugh, Dean said, “It’s the least I can do after everything yesterday, trust me. I drove cross country two days for a Jayhawks game, and this is way more important.” He reached his own hand towards the kid, slowing when he saw just how small Jacob was compared to it. His middle finger alone was longer than the kid was tall.  
  
Two fingers closed around the extended hand, covering it partway up Jacob’s arm. Dean could feel the tiny muscles flex as he gently went up, then down to simulate a handshake with someone that could fit in his hand with room to spare.  
  
Jacob's eyes were a little wide, staring at where his hand (and part of his arm) disappeared in Dean's grip. It was a startling dose of perspective, one that he'd invited this time. When the light pressure around his hand relented, he flexed his fingers and let his hand drop to his side. The feeling lingered.  
  
It was yet another remarkable difference compared to the day before. Dean had gruffly pointed out that Jacob's struggles were getting him nowhere before grabbing his arm a lot like he'd just done, but far less gently and without Jacob offering it. Then, barely a day ago, Jacob was a strange little curiosity, not yet a person that Dean had promised to help. Thanks to Sam, they'd come a long way in just 24 hours.  
  
When Jacob had been swept off the ground, he'd feared for his life. Now, he was one road trip away from reuniting with his mom and getting his life _back_.  
  
Jacob looked back to Sam and took a few steps to get out of the shadow of Dean and the laptop, back towards where they'd left their hooks. "I'm probably gonna head back here pretty soon... You gonna stay and do some more catching up, or ...?" He paused, wondering if Sam would follow. After all, the two of them were brothers; Jacob would certainly understand if Sam chose to linger after he left.  
  
Sam shook his head. “Like I’d leave you on your own with Walt,” he said dryly. Though it was debatable if Sam being around would help calm anything down, at least Jacob would have support when he went to break the news to their adopted family. Sam and Walt got along fine, but there were some moments when neither of them could hold back. It could be like trying to mix oil and water, having them in the same house. It was a good thing Mallory was around to smooth things over between them with her soft ways that neither could say no to.  
  
He paused before following Jacob. “Dean, do you… think we could meet up with you in the morning?” he asked cautiously. He still wasn’t sure how much they could reasonably ask of him, so he was trying to take it slow.  
  
Sam needn't have worried. Dean nodded. “That’s fine. I’m sure you might want to pack for the trip… It would be a hard trip to go all the way there and come right back here the same day.” For himself, Dean didn’t know if Sam actually wanted to come with _him_ or was just along to make sure that Jacob settled in safely with his family.  
  
Sam gave him a grin back. “I’ll be sure to pack extra. After all, we’ve got some catching up to do. I better be prepared.”  
  
He jogged over to Jacob to catch up. “You’ll at least have some time to pack what you want,” Sam said when he got over.  
  
Jacob chuckled, then shrugged slowly. "I don't really have much except my clothes," he mused. Even those didn't take up much space, since he only had a few sets. Everything else Jacob owned was in his bag already, arranged carefully so he had room for whatever he might find on a supply run.  
  
It was so _weird_ to think that he might not need to go on supply runs anymore. He had barely started learning the best techniques for them. If he went home, he'd have access to everything without having to sneak or hide. It was for the best; Jacob wasn't as good at being inconspicuous as Sam and Walt.  
  
"I'm just wondering how I'm gonna tell Walt and Mallory. I've gotten so used to helping around the house and stuff... It'll be weird." His shoulders slumped. Walt and Mallory really had become his family in the last three years, but he couldn't exactly ask them to come with him. "I just wish there was a way to thank them more." As he and Sam reached their hooks and started the climb to the floor, Jacob trailed off to focus on the task of moving safely.  
  
“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Sam said as he hopped off the table himself. He was a little more brash with his skills than Jacob, showing off with their audience rapt.  
  
Dean, unable to help himself, leaned over to watch them climb once more. He’d held back his curiosity the night before, with Jacob so traumatized by his actions, but he was intently fascinated by their motions, and how expertly they climbed. Another part of him wanted to be ready in case he needed to reach out and catch either of the small guys, especially the way Sam was so overconfident with his climbing.  
  
“After all,” Sam went on, sliding down a few inches with a grin to pass Jacob’s spot, “they know how it feels to lose a kid. They’d never want to keep you from your family. And it’s not like this is the end. I’m sure you can visit again if you want. Walt and Mallory would never turn you away.” If Sam ended up going with Dean, he’d certainly want to come back to visit them. He never wanted to have to say goodbye to the family that had given him so much when they had so little.  
  
Jacob smirked and rolled his eyes at the way Sam showed off his skills. He could see Dean leaning over to watch their progress and knew what motivated the showmanship. After years apart, Sam was clearly excited to show his older brother what he'd learned. Jacob could probably slide down his twine that quickly. He'd had to hurry off the table just the day before when they heard the ominous sound of Dean's arrival. If it had been any other human arriving at that door, things could be very different for them right now.  
  
Without the adrenaline and uncertainty fueling him, Jacob kept his steadier pace. He didn't want to risk falling so far just to show off. "You're probably right," he said down to Sam a little distractedly. His mother would really want to meet the people that had helped him; even if they didn't come out, Jacob doubted she would refuse to bring him to see them.  
  
When he caught up to Sam at last and flicked his climbing rope to retrieve his makeshift hook, he added "You'll have to come and visit _me_ , too y'know. I'll keep practicing my climbing. How else am I gonna know if I finally caught up with you?"  
  
Sam smirked and lead the way back towards the wall. “We both know you’ll be trying to catch up to me for years yet,” he jabbed as they went under the bed. He sent one last glance back at Dean, unable to see more than the boots and the beginning of the towering legs attached to them. _We’ll be back before he knows it,_ Sam reassured himself, knowing it was true.  
  
No matter what Walt said, there was no way for him to keep either of them from their families. Not that Sam ever thought he’d try. After everything he and Mallory had lost the year before finding Sam, they’d never want to separate a family like that. They’d be sad to see their adopted sons leave, but it wouldn’t be forever. If Sam went with Dean on the road, he’d make sure that his brother was willing to return to the motel again. Dean would understand.  
  
Which brought him to wondering what it would be like if Walt ever actually got to meet Dean. Find out what a hunter was really like. One that didn’t just kill anything different, which was what Walt had run into before. Trapped in a cage, waiting to be found by a killer… Every moment had torn him up until he’d escaped. It played largely into the way he was now, along with losing Bree to humans later on in life. Humans simply _took_. They took his freedom, they took his daughter… Walt had never had a reason to trust a human. He’d adopted Sam and Jacob, but neither of them was human anymore. They were small, fragile, vulnerable, and he’d opened up his home to them both.  
  
Now Walt just needed to see that Sam and Jacob weren’t the only ones he could trust.  
  
Reaching the vent, Sam entered first, holding the slits open for Jacob once he dropped down. A metallic _clang_ filled the air, soft and light, but something Dean would have an easy time hearing now that he knew about them. Normally that type of noise would be anathema to Sam, but here he knew they were both safe.  
  
“Only a few more hours,” Sam mused out loud. “Then we might finally get to see your family.” The thought made him warm inside. Even with some nerves about meeting a new human, Sam thought he should be willing to give it a try.  
  
Jacob grinned again. He couldn't help it. The simple thought that Sam was right, and that he'd be back with his family so soon lifted his spirits more with each passing second. He doubted he'd get much more sleep than he had the night before.   
  
Instead of nightmares about what could have been, this time he'd be preoccupied with hopeful thoughts.  
  
"I don't think I ever thought this would happen. I mean what are the chances of your brother rolling through here again?" he asked, shaking his head. Not only that, but actually meeting Sam after all that time. The fear leading up to that reunion notwithstanding, it was incredibly lucky. Jacob's mother probably wouldn't have come back to this motel ever again on her own. It'd be too painful.  
  
Making their way back to their home, Jacob's steps had a certain spring to them. Even as he made sure to be completely silent in the walls, he was happy. He'd never gotten to say any kind of goodbye to his mother. When Jacob had come to accept that she was really gone, it had torn him up inside as much as it had torn him up when his dad died.  
  
"Mom will probably be pretty glad to meet you, too, Sam, if you wanted to see her," Jacob mused suddenly when they were still a ways off. Of course, they'd probably need to wait until she'd had a little time to let the initial shock wear off, and time for Sam to get used to the idea. The small man was rightfully wary. But then, if Sam was willing, Jacob would gladly introduce them. "Seeing as you basically saved my hide and all."  
  
Sam grinned back, hiding any wariness he had at the thought of meeting any other humans than Dean. With Dean, he trusted he was safe and welcome. Anyone else would be tough to come out into the open with, especially the way he reacted when they saw him. Automatically stiffening, freezing in place… any way that he could use to avoid notice. The instinct was strong after years of conditioning.  
  
It would be hard, but for Jacob he’d do it. They’d both believed their families gone forever, out of their reach. Alive, but with no way to ever find them or tell them what had happened. Dean had shattered that barrier for them. A hunter that could track people down, and a way to get from one city to the next, Dean was the best person that could have appeared, even after the terrifying first encounter. It wouldn’t be his fault if he thought he was on a hunt, because even Sam could remember John drilling Dean with precautions and preparations, and what to do if any monsters ever found them.  
  
After standing on the table under that ominous shadow, Sam knew for certain that it was terrifying to be on the other end.  
  
“First we’ll get you reunited,” Sam said. “Then we’ll worry about me and Dean. I’ll be there for support the entire way.”  
  
Jacob nodded gratefully. He figured it'd take a little time to work up to it. For one thing, just his arrival home would be dropping a huge surprise on his mother's head. She'd be shaken enough meeting one shrinking victim. Jacob was keenly aware of how nerve-wracking it'd be to meet another human.  
  
She was his mother and even _he_ had some nerves lingering in the back of his mind. She was huge to him now. Able to pick Jacob up just as easily as Dean had done. But she was family.  
  
He refrained from saying anything more, since they approached their cozy home with Walt and Mallory ... one they'd be leaving soon. Once they figured out how to break the news and what they would bring. Jacob put extra effort into taking careful steps to avoid them getting caught coming back, though he knew they'd have to explain in the morning anyway. He carefully pulled aside the block of wood that served as the door and led the way in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plans are laid out, parents must be told. They are getting their shit together.
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 9 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	21. Bittersweet Goodbyes

Walt was waiting for them when they came in.  
  
The older man sat in the living room, his blond hair lit up by moonlight that filtered down in sparse bars of illumination from the room above. Sharp blue eyes watched the two cursed humans try their best to slip back into the home without a sound, a lost cause when their absence had been realized long before.  
  
Walt steepled his fingers together thoughtfully, assessing the two men he’d helped raise. Even Jacob, so much younger than Sam but forced into this life all the same, could be considered a man in this world they lived in. He still had so much to learn, but the time for learning had grown short.  
  
“So,” Walt began gruffly, without waiting for them to notice him. “You went to see him. This human I’ve heard so much about.”  
  
Jacob’s breath hitched and Sam almost jumped out of his skin. “W-We didn’t go see anyone. Just running through a few rooms at night this time.”  
  
Walt gave him a grim smile when Sam made it fully into the home. “That’s a load of crap and we _all_ know it. I already know you went to see Dean last night. Mallory told me I shouldn’t try and stop you. Family, after all, shouldn’t be kept apart.” He frowned. “I _was_ surprised to see _Jacob_ slip out with you tonight, however.” Walt turned his eyes on the younger brother. “I thought you’d avoid the person that _trapped_ you so easily.”  
  
Jacob cringed. He understood the phrase "like a deer in headlights" all too well under that stare. He had no defenses for it. Never before had he defied Walt like this, and despite his uplifted spirits he was appropriately sheepish.  
  
Jacob's birth father had been gone for six years by the time he was cursed and Walt took him in as his own. In the year leading up to his death, he hadn't had much time or energy to be strict about anything. Walt's parenting was very different from what Jacob remembered, but Jacob had never thought that made the man less of a father to him. He'd taken Jacob in and saved him from being stuck alone at a vulnerable, tiny size, even though it was hard enough getting by already. Jacob was one more mouth to feed, a drain on resources, yet never once had anyone complained about taking him in.  
  
So it did make Jacob a little guilty to disappoint him like this. "I... uhm," he floundered. There weren't a lot of ways to dress up the truth. He'd recklessly gone back to see a human that had kept him trapped under a vase for several hours. A human who, if Sam hadn't shown up, might have _killed_ Jacob or taken him away no matter what he said. The fact that he _could_ was frightening enough, and yet Jacob had gone back.  
  
Jacob shrugged, his hands lifting from his sides slightly before falling back down. "Okay, yeah, I went," he mumbled, his voice gaining strength as he thought about it. "And yeah, he ... he did trap me yesterday. It was fucking terrifying and I wasn't sure if I'd see any of you ever again, and I can't ignore that. But then he _let me go._ I can't ignore _that_ either. Sam trusts him, and I trust Sam, so ... I had to give this a shot." By the end of his little speech, Jacob's tone was an odd mix of self-assured and apologetic, but he didn't look away.  
  
Walt stared steadily at him, staying quiet about what he saw staring back at him. Then, he glanced appraisingly over at Sam as well. “You both trust a human,” he stated. “And the fact that you both came back for the second time… or a _third_ time, in Sam’s case, says a lot about this man.”   
  
Sam didn’t respond to the slight jab as he stared back.   
  
Walt went on. “I also know that I can’t keep you from him, Sam. And I never wanted to. I just want you and Jacob to _be safe._ I won’t lose another child. Not again.”  
  
Sam knew what they were going to do was dangerous, but it was also _right_ , and right for Jacob to have the chance to see his family again. Walt needed to know. “Dean said he’d track down Jacob’s family for him,” he ended up replying. “Help him find his mother after all these years.”  
  
Walt threw his glance back at Jacob. “Is this what you want?” he asked sternly.  
  
Jacob met Walt's eyes with a little more confidence this time. He nodded once. "Yeah. I don't know how, but I'll make it work. She's my mom. I _have_ to." Jacob understood that it'd be dangerous. He'd be putting himself in front of a woman who hadn't seen him in three years and who know could knock him over with a single jab in the chest.  
  
But, like he said, she was his mom. That wouldn't happen. She would be surprised and she might take convincing, but family was family.  
  
For a second, Jacob was thrown back three years, when he first found out that she'd gone, left Jacob behind in the motel because she had no idea how to look for him. She never knew that she'd need to look for someone much smaller than the tall boy she remembered. After his dad, she was all Jacob had, and he was all she had.  
  
Walt nodded in reply, solemn. “Then I guess I’ll have to rely on Sam keeping an eye on _you,_ ” he said dryly. “Since you did such a good job watching out for him.” He came forward and clapped them both on the shoulders. “Now, if you leave without telling Mallory goodbye, she’s going to have my head, so no sneaking off on her, okay?”  
  
He lead them further into the house, talking all the while.  
  


* * *

  
Despite the exhaustion of the day, Jacob's excitement ran high and he didn't sleep as much as he might have. The morning was a blur. He got out of his bed for the last time and made sure to pack up what clothes he had, lovingly crafted by Mallory. They suited people their size perfectly, the threads carefully worked into a thinner material that wasn't as thick and cumbersome as fabric was usually made by humans. Sam packed his own bag, and soon enough they were ready, their satchels full of everything they owned.  
  
Ready as they could be, anyway, to head out into a world far too big for them. With a human, no less. One who had only arrived two days ago, reuniting with Sam after over a decade apart. Jacob kept feeling butterflies in his stomach and a strange melancholy in his heart. It was sad to leave Mallory and Walt after all they'd done. He was glad they'd just restocked all the food. He knew they'd be okay at least for a while.  
  
He could always come back and visit for a while. Jacob was no longer trapped by his size.  
  
The vent to Dean's room was in sight. Light from the morning sun leaked through the slats in golden bars, benignly inviting them closer. Jacob took a steeling breath as they reached it. In truth, he had no idea how it would go, and he was nervous. Traveling with a human, even one he thought he should be able to trust, was a massive unknown.  
  
When the two brothers slipped out of the vent, cautious and silent as ever, Jacob stuck close to the wall to assess the room once more before taking another step. Just inches away was the spot where he'd been snatched into the air, stolen away from his mad dash for freedom. And now, here he was, ready to put himself back in reach of the same human that had lifted him high above the floor in a casual show of how powerful he was.  
  
"Here goes nothing," Jacob muttered, glancing to the side to send Sam a quick, tight smile.  
  


* * *

  
Dean was just putting the finishing touches on his outfit in the morning when he saw them arriving. He turned towards the vent, tucking his colt back into his jeans as he did so. "Hey guys," he greeted. "I was starting to think you two sleepyheads were gonna stand me up here." Being a hunter, he didn't normally get more than an average of four hours asleep. The extra time for sleep at this motel was starting to spoil him, since he didn’t have an actual hunt to worry about.  
  
Just some research and a pair of guys smaller than his hand.  
  
Dean retreated to the table, with no real idea how he was supposed to act around them. If he walked over there, he’d be looming, and if he sat at the table, he’d have to wait for them to reach him.   
  
_Not like you’re going anywhere,_ he told himself. _You can give them the chance to get here on their own._  
  
He just felt like he _needed_ to help. He could make things easier with a simple motion, moving them to the table in seconds. Yet they’d both made it clear they prefered to do things on their own, and after his massive screw up the other day, he owed it to them to let them.  
  
His duffel and computer were already packed up and in the car waiting. All that was left was the library books, and since he’d checked them out under a fake name he’d decided to just leave them in the room for the motel to take care of. He didn’t want to go too far from Sam since he didn’t know what time they’d come around.  
  
They finally reached the table and climbed up. Dean was still fascinated by how commonplace they made the motion appear. Sam climbed like a monkey, straight up into the air without hesitation, and Jacob, though Dean could tell he wasn’t as comfortable as Sam with climbing, would still leave Dean down on the floor in the dust. His own experiences with climbing were few and far between, and usually on surfaces that didn’t come anywhere near as tall as the table did in comparison to their small heights.  
  
“So, how was the traffic getting here?” Dean asked jokingly, eliciting an eyeroll from Sam. Strange how he could see that level of detail when Sam was close enough. Probably a good thing, since Dean imagined he’d get that attitude plenty from his younger brother. Just like when they were kids.  
  
“Oh, the paths were _perfectly_ clear,” Sam shot back. “A great day for travel in the dark, really. We could have gone all day.”  
  
Dean smirked. “Glad you decided to come out here, then. With those great travel conditions you could try and make it all the way to Jacob’s mom’s on your own.”  
  
He sobered up quick enough, knowing when it was time to get down to business and stop messing around. “So, will you two be okay traveling with me? I mean…” Dean glanced down at himself, “I’m probably going to have to keep you in a pocket at least while we’re outside. Once we’re in the car it’ll be safe to come out, but until then, can’t risk anyone realizing people like you live here, right?”  
  
Sam nodded in response, clearly uneasy with the thought. He tossed a look in Jacob’s direction to see what he thought of their options.   
  
Jacob raised his eyebrows to find the attention on him. His eyes strayed over to the pocket on Dean's shirt. His bag had been stowed away in a pocket just like that one. He hadn't been able to see its shape then, and Jacob wondered if he and Sam would be visible from a pocket. If they were, probably not by much. Just small, near invisible bumps that could just be a fold in the fabric.  
  
Hidden away from the world and the other humans. He couldn't help a moment of intimidation to know that he and Sam would be completely under Dean's control while they were in there. Jacob took a slow breath and released it.  
  
He'd already decided he'd trust Dean. He could go into a pocket. No problem.  
  
He shrugged. "Good idea. Better to be safe about it, right?" he said, meeting Sam's nervous gaze with one of his own. _We can do this._ At least they weren't going to be on their own. That duffel was out of sight. Jacob had considered, on his way there, the different possible ways for Dean to transport them, and the huge bag full of weapons and supplies was one of the least appealing ways to go.  
  
He shifted his bag on his shoulder self consciously. With the table cleared of Dean's computer and all those books stacked to one side, Jacob couldn't help but think of his short time trapped there. When the glass vase, so innocuous, kept him in place in the middle of the table, exposed to the room without any way to hide himself. This time he'd be hidden away someplace where he couldn't safely escape without risking being seen, not to mention Dean could decide to keep them there.  
  
Jacob knew enough by now to know it was unlikely that Dean _would_ trap them that way... but he _could._ It was hard to give someone control like that, and Jacob was certain Sam was thinking something similar.  
  
"So long as you don't go dropping your phone or your money on our heads or something I'm sure it'll be fine," Jacob added with a sheepish chuckle.  
  
“Yeah, no change in the pocket,” Sam echoed pointedly, giving Dean a joking glare.  
  
Dean smirked. “Hey, you two are traveling first class over here. All the comfort of the chest pocket. What do you take me for? Phones and pocket change get… third class?” He glanced down at himself. “Whatever you call the jeans pockets. Maybe the cargo hold.”  
  
Realizing he was rambling on, Dean made himself stop and focus. “ ‘Sides, I made sure there was nothing in my pockets before you got here.” He slowly extended his hand next to the small pair. “All aboard!” he joked, doing his best to keep things lighthearted even as he could feel himself grow nervous. They were so much smaller than his hand. He could probably have three or four people their size all on his palm at the same time without a problem.   
  
The pressure was on not to let them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Dean's pant pockets are officially the cargo bay, jacket pockets are second class, and chest pockets are first class. Anyone up for buying some tickets? XD
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 11 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	22. Mistakes to Look Past

Sam gave a brief swallow of nerves, but called up his memory of two days before when Dean had held him carefully. He’d been swept right off the table, but not once trapped or threatened. And then, Dean had listened to Sam’s request to let Jacob go. Sam _knew_ his brother could be trusted.

He stepped on first, his boot sinking into the skin in that slightly unnerving fashion. A few brave steps brought him to the center of the palm, and he turned to face Jacob, giving him a shaky thumbs up.

Jacob couldn't help but pause. He glanced over the hand that rested in front of him as Dean waited for him to join Sam on it. Even the smallest twitch in the muscles was obvious to the two of them. Every wrinkle in the skin was easy to trace. The hand was big and powerful and Jacob had to put himself on it.

He took a step and couldn't help but think of his last encounters with that hand. Those fingers, as big as his body or bigger and far more powerful than even Jacob's strength, coiling around him and pressing him into the palm he was to stand on now. The muscles not even so much as twitching when Jacob pushed against them and that thumb relentlessly forcing his arm up to harsh angles just to give Dean a better shot at examining it.

Jacob found himself shoving a hand in his hoodie pocket and gripping his satchel strap with the other again. The actions helped him anchor himself while he took a few more steps and carefully got onto Dean's hand. He hadn't stood on this surface before. The give beneath his boots drew his gaze downward and he was almost intrigued. This was kind of weird and cool at the same time.

At the very least, he much preferred this to the other method of picking him up.

"Alright, this isn't terrible at all," he admitted, offering his own brief thumbs up to the others before returning his hand to his pocket. He was already bracing himself for the hand to shoot into the air with them on it. This time, at least, he could brace himself for the ascent.

Dean gave a small laugh. “Not terrible, but definitely _weird_ ,” he admitted, staring down in amazement at the two small guys on his hand. Both had put themselves there willingly, and that blew him away after how wary they were with him. With the way he’d acted, he wouldn’t have blamed them if they wanted nothing to do with him.

They’d given him a chance to redeem himself, and he didn’t want to screw up a second chance. Sam had taken Jacob in as an adopted brother, and Dean didn’t want his last encounter with Jacob to be full of fear.

“Okay, I dunno… just hang on, alright?” he said. His hand slowly rose into the air with them both balanced on it, and when he saw the way they swayed with his smallest movement, his fingers arched up around them to make a small barrier. Sam shifted closer to Jacob, staring around at their new perspective. Jacob kept his eyes on his feet as gravity pushed his boots into Dean’s palm.

Once Dean’s hand was stationary again, he just stared.

_Now what?_ he asked himself. They needed to go in the pocket. Was he supposed to just… put them in it? They hadn’t mentioned anything about _how_ he was supposed to do it. It was up to him.

Dean bit his lip nervously and propped the pocket open with his other hand. “Here we go,” he said quietly as he brought the hand over, doing his best not to move too fast. Once there, he tilted his hand so they slid in to land at the bottom. It was as good a way as any, he figured.

Jacob landed in a surprised heap at the bottom of the pocket, quickly losing his balance on the cloth. It didn't help that Sam wasn't far behind, knocking them both into a pile with several surprised grumblings. "Dammit ..." Jacob muttered, pushing Sam off himself. "At least buy me a drink first, dude," he snarked, though it came across as more exasperated than actually frustrated.

They couldn't exactly say they expected any different. Jacob hadn't been sure how they'd get into the pocket any more than Dean. He just hadn't been prepared to be dumped into the cloth enclosure.

Jacob tried to grasp the fabric around them to pull himself up. He managed to sit in the bottom of the pocket, and next made a good attempt to move his feet under himself to stand. The edge of the pocket was probably close enough to reach. He was curious about what the room would look like from there, but more than that, he was planning to let the human know that his technique could use some work.

Jacob couldn't quite find his balance. He fell backwards, landing on his bag with a faint "oof.” He looked over to see how Sam was faring for their first time in a human's pocket. "Okay so maybe we'll have to workshop that a little," he mused.

Sam snickered, then tried to stand himself. It was like trying to stand in an uneven, unsteady hammock that shifted steadily back and forth while they were trying to unravel from each other. _Dean’s breathing,_ Sam realized, slightly awed all over again that they were actually _in a hunter's pocket_ , of all places, and not in any danger. Just like his hands, Dean’s pockets posed no threat to them despite the size.

Sam could dig his fingers between the threads of Dean’s thick shirt to help find balance while he pulled himself up. Bracing himself against the wall of Dean’s chest, Sam managed to go to a shaky stand. He elbowed Dean’s chest firmly, though he had no idea if his brother would even be able to _feel_ such a relatively small motion.

By the time he managed to grab onto the edge of the pocket, about an inch away from the hand that was propping it open for Dean, his brother was giving him a glare of his own. “What’s the big deal?” Dean grumped. “There’s no reason to beat me up. _I’m_ your ride, remember?”

Sam rolled his eyes and elbowed again, not intimidated by the glare above as long as Dean was joking at the same time. Remembering all the times Dean had joked around as kids helped a lot. Sam knew his brother was fairly harmless when he was kidding around, and that would still apply even with Dean standing so much taller than them both. “Right. Next time you might want to _not drop us,_ ” Sam said dryly. “Jerk.”

Looking straight up gave Jacob one of the strangest perspectives he had ever seen. Walls of fabric stretched up on either side, tunneling his vision. Through the swaying of Dean's breathing, Jacob realized he could hear an enormous _heart_ beating, too. Jacob was in someone's pocket, _with another person,_ and there was room to spare.

_Holy shit._ He had a feeling he'd be confronted with a lot of new and unusual perspective now that he'd chosen to travel with Dean for a while, and to go live with his mother. This would have to be good practice.

"I, uh, gotta agree with Sam on that one," he called up, shifting so he sat up again. Jacob mimicked Sam's methods of working his fingers into the weave of the shirt to pull himself to a stand as well. Dean's voice still rang in his ears, and Jacob couldn't help but notice that the tunneled view of the world beyond the pocket pretty much only showed Dean's mock glare. Jacob took a steadying breath and latched both hands on the edge of the pocket.

Once he was standing, Jacob looked straight up and pointed a thumb at Sam. "Dropping runs the risk of this guy falling on me again. Sam's not _that_ heavy, but he's still pretty heavy," Jacob said, unable to resist the jab at his adopted brother.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Says _you,_ ” he shot right back, bouncing in the pocket to upset Jacob’s balance. The only reason Jacob didn't tumble right to the bottom of the pocket when Sam jostled it was the fact that he looped his arm over the edge. He lost his footing. “You might be shorter than me, but I’m pretty sure _you’re_ the heavier one,” Sam groused.

Neither of them was small by any means (by their standards, at least), especially considering that Jacob was now approaching Walt’s height without any sign of slowing down, but Sam was the slimmer of the pair. Even all the muscles that had built up from climbing all those years weren’t enough to bulk Sam up as much as Jacob.

Dean, watching from above, felt a smile grow at the playful banter despite his mistake. His ears were still burning a bit after realizing what he’d accidentally done, dumping them on top of each other. He could feel every move they made against his chest, even when Sam dug his heels for balance.

“How ‘bout next time, I just stick my fingers in the pocket and you two can figure it out yourselves,” he said pointedly. “That way if anything goes wrong you’ve got no one but yourselves to blame.”

Sam’s face morphed from a glare to a surprised smile. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, glad Dean wasn’t just ignoring what they said.

Jacob managed to regain his balance in time to send a grateful smile to Dean. "That'll probably work better." He was pleasantly surprised to hear that Dean was open to their suggestions rather than brushing them off. It would certainly be easier for him to just keep doing things his own way.

With that figured out, Jacob smirked. "Guess we better get hidden since that's the whole point of hanging out in a pocket." Aiming for revenge for Sam bouncing the pocket, he reached over with one hand and grabbed the back of Sam's jacket to shove him back into the depths of the cloth enclosure. Of course, the movement made him lose his own tenuous balance, and Jacob dropped down too.

Sam floundered a little as he tumbled down, trying to find up from down inside the fabric walls. “You little…” He was cut off by a sudden rumbling around them, and glanced up to see Dean laughing at them both. “Don’t you go encouraging him!” Sam yelled up at his brother.

The flap dropped down at last as Dean let go of the pocket, blocking them from sight. Dean’s voice was as loud as ever. “Me? What about you, pint-size? I’m not the one trying to knock him over.”

Before Sam could come up with a response to that, his stomach dropped out from under him. Dean was standing. Sam grabbed at the strap of his satchel, pulling it close to him to try and hide his unease.

It was all so _easy_ for the older Winchester. Just by standing, he was taking Sam and Jacob to a height that they never truly reached on their own. While in the dusty ceiling vents, they were high above the humans, but the perspective wasn’t anything like what Sam remembered from childhood and what Jacob could recall clearly from only three years ago. Sam shifted in place, letting his head rest against the solid wall behind them so he could feel the powerful beat of the heart so close to them. Reassuring him that he really _was_ there.

_No matter what happens, I’m back with Dean. All those years and that’s all I wanted, so now that it’s actually here, I’ll have to make sure I don’t let him down. I can’t let a stupid thing like size get in the way._

The sound of Dean grabbing his keys drifted up to them from beyond their enclosed world. It was unreal to think that Dean could go about his day like normal, and they were completely hidden and with him the entire time. Hell, the _keys_ Dean was holding might weigh more than the two of them together.

Dean started to move. The entire pocket shook as he took a step, swaying in time with his gait. Before Sam could think much about the movement, the sound of Dean’s voice filled the air again. “Now you two make sure you behave. I don’t want to have to separate you to different pockets, now.” There was a lighthearted, teasing tone overlaying the words as he went. “Can’t have anyone else picking up on you, right?” A doorknob rattled as Dean paused in his walk.

Jacob had at least had a chance to experience the swift rise through the air and the faint tremors that shook them all the way up Dean's body from his footsteps. He wasn't that prepared for it, but he found he preferred the pocket marginally more than having a fist closed around him. Then, his arms and legs had been trapped, squashed beyond any ability to free them, and he'd been at the complete mercy of the human who caught him.

Now, he was still mostly at the same human's mercy, being closed in his pocket right near his heart, but at least he knew Dean wasn't _trapping_ them. He was hiding them, making sure no other human saw them and had the opportunity to make the same move he had at first.

Jacob shifted so his bag rested on his lap while he leaned against the side of the pocket, one hand gripping the fabric. "You're not wrong," he called out, leaving it at that. The rattling of the doorknob had his heart beating a little faster. Jacob hadn't been outdoors in years. Unless he counted the alcove high on the wall that Sam had showed him once, and since they stuck close to the safety of the motel wall to watch the parking lot from there, that didn’t _really_ count.

And then, just like that, an enormous door Jacob couldn't hope to move was opened and there was an immediate change in the air. The smell of the asphalt of the parking lot reached them, and the warmth of the day contrasted heavily with the AC in the room. Even the light changed, pinpricks of golden sunlight reaching through the weave of Dean's pocket. After a brief pause and a deep breath, his steps continued to rattle them as he walked out and left the motel room behind.

Left Jacob's home of the last three years behind. He glanced over at Sam with a nervous smile that his adopted brother met with a smile of his own, still hardly able to believe they were doing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean might have a few lessons to learn before he figures those two tiny guys out... like don't dump them in the pocket. Or move sloooow when digging them out.
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 13 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and reviews are love!


	23. On the Road Again

Dean took a deep breath of the morning air as he stood in the threshold of the door, giving himself a second to survey the parking lot.  
  
Searching for threats was second nature after hunting on his own for so long. Any time he dropped his guard could be the time that he got a knife to the back, or fangs ripping into his throat. Ever since his dad had left, he’d become even more wary and cautious without a partner to watch out for him. That unwavering watchfulness would help him out now that he had two very small, very vulnerable, victims to watch out for.  
  
They were both tucked against his chest. If he focused his attention on them, he could feel how they’d both frozen up the moment the door had opened. Life had clearly taught them their own wariness after years of being downsized. The fear that followed them wherever they went, shaping their thoughts every day of their lives, made Dean more determined than ever to find a way to protect them.  
  
The Impala was parked right outside the room. The motel was clearly not in its peak season (if it even had one), so he’d had no problem finding a good parking spot. The door opened with a familiar metallic creak, and he settled into the driver’s seat. In his pocket, tiny weights shifted around as Sam and Jacob tried not to tumble with the tilt and sway of Dean’s movements.  
  
He took a moment to brace himself in the confines of his car, lovingly cared for ever since his father and Bobby had taken the time to show him the ins and outs of automobiles. It was relaxing to be able to care for her, and he spend a good portion of his time underneath the hood or the body of the slick black classic muscle car.  
  
He had other things to take care of that day, so he pulled away from his musings.“We're in the car,” he said outloud to inform his ‘passengers’ of what was going on. “Guess you two might want to see something a little more interesting than my pocket.” Even though Dean wasn't shouting by any means, his voice still felt like it surrounded the two in the pocket, and Jacob put a surprised hand over one ear.  
  
Without further ado, Dean flipped open the pocket and reached in. They could figure out seating arrangements once everyone was in open air.  
  
Jacob almost moved to stand, but instead flinched with sheer surprise when that enormous hand dove into the pocket. It didn't matter how determined he was to trust Dean, that sight was jarring. The hand was clearly on a mission.  
  
And they were the targets.   
  
Jacob moved, thinking he might get out of the way and tell Dean to slow himself down and not grab them too fast. But Dean was far too quick for him to organize his thoughts on the matter _or_ get out of the way. A finger and thumb found purchase on the back of his jacket.  
  
 _Shit._   
  
He met Sam's gaze before his stomach was pushed down into his shoes and he was dragged swiftly out of the pocket.  
  
Jacob's hands automatically tried to reach behind to grasp the hand that held him and his legs automatically curled upwards as if he might avoid falling. He was suspended by his jacket for several seconds, a wall of a human chest to one side and the steering wheel of a massive car on the other. He dangled over Dean's lap and the bench seat of the car, but didn't have time to appreciate the well-cared-for interior of the vehicle.  
  
This was _not_ going to work.  
  
Jacob felt way too insecure dangling by only his hoodie, which could tear or slip or _something._ Even though it was only a second or two before he found himself deposited on a palm, Jacob's heart was pounding in his ears and he was disoriented and rumpled. Both hands gripped the strap of his satchel.  
  
He saw the hand that plucked him out of the pocket returning to retrieve Sam. He held out his own hand and opened his mouth to warn Dean not to grab Sam like that too, but was too late; those huge fingers were already disappearing into the pocket.  
  
Sam had barely digested Jacob’s sudden removal from the pocket before the hand came back in for him. Dean was _fast._ Within seconds, the fingers latched around Sam’s waist, finding no purchase on the back of his jacket like they’d found on Jacob’s hoodie.  
  
“Dean, wait--” was all Sam got out before the grip solidified around his all-too-slim waist. He’d never felt particularly _fragile_ in his life, but the sheer power in those fingers was not to be denied. Once Dean had a good hold on him, there was no wriggling out.  
  
The pocket vanished below as Sam was lifted out just like Jacob. His hands tightened on his satchel, even though it was securely over his shoulder. The sight of the ground (Dean’s lap) far below his dangling feet made him want to hold tight, but he had nothing to grab.  
  
There was the brief sight of Jacob’s apologetic face before Sam was lowered down right next to him and easily released onto a broad palm. Sam stumbled for a moment before he was able to stand and catch his breath. He twisted around at Dean. “What. The. Hell?!” he practically spluttered in disbelief.  
  
Dean’s eyebrows went up, but Sam didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “You can’t just go grabbing us like that, Dean! For one thing, what if you dropped us?” Dean’s mouth opened to reply, probably to protest that he'd ever drop them, and Sam held up a hand and gave him the most poignant, scathing glare he could summon against a giant. “For another thing, some warning next time? Maybe just give us a hand so we can climb out… Even if you’re in a hurry, just scoop us out! No dangling. I thought _you_ were the one that’s afraid of heights.”  
  
Dean had to consciously pull his mouth closed after the unexpected scolding. “Sam, I…” He trailed off for a moment before trying again. “Shit, Sam. I’m _trying._ This isn’t…” Dean rubbed his face with his other hand, feeling his heart sink a little more when he saw how easily the small pair swayed with his movements. “Just let me know, okay? I’ll try to not be an asshat _all_ the time.”  
  
Jacob wasn't sure which had him more surprised. He stood rooted to his spot on Dean's hand despite the swaying in it, doing his best not to fall on his ass. He still felt the vertigo tying his stomach in knots after his brief time held up, dangling by nothing more than his hoodie. He took a deep breath and assessed the other surprises to take his mind off of it.  
  
Sam had just _scolded_ someone almost twenty times his size. Someone who could easily pick Sam up in two fingers (and had just demonstrated that fact). Someone who physically held _all_ the power out of the three of them, and they all knew it.  
  
Jacob may have been thinking some of the same things, but he never would have dreamed of actually saying them. Not yet; Dean was just too big to _yell_ at, nevermind scold the way Sam had done.   
  
Of course, Sam didn't think so.  
  
Another surprise was that Dean _listened._  
  
The human looked full of remorse, and Jacob believed him. He hadn't had any malicious intent behind the actions. In his own way, he'd just been trying to _help_. Dean was just as clueless about all of this as Sam and Jacob were. Sadly, the difference was that his mistakes could cost them a lot more, so he needed them to let him know these things.  
  
Jacob scratched his head before his hand settled self-consciously over the back of his neck. With his other hand shoved in his pocket, he shrugged. "Hey, that coulda been worse, right? We're all kinda new at this. I mean, me falling on my ass earlier, that's... probably not the last time it'll happen. We just have to be careful is all."  
  
Dean’s lips quirked up briefly at Jacob’s joke, but he remained serious as he watched the two small guys on his hand. “Right. We’ll figure it out together. I guess I don’t have to worry about making sure you tell me if I’m doing anything wrong, do I?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, but grinned back. “Guess not.”  
  
“Good.” Dean glanced around the parking lot again to make sure no one was near his car. With the car parked and stationary, there was a good chance that a passerby would figure out he wasn’t holding up two action figures on his hand. “So, I’m not sure where you want to sit… The seat probably isn’t safe, since the second I hit the brakes, you guys could go flying. The dashboard’s probably about the same, and you wouldn’t want to be up there when I’m on the interstate…”  
  
“What about your shoulder?” Sam interjected curiously, cutting off Dean's rambling.  
  
Dean paused. It hadn’t occurred to him that they might _want_ to sit with him. He’d considered the shoulder briefly, but had thought that they’d still want space from him. After everything he’d put them through, that made the most sense.  
  
Sam continued on, explaining his idea. “We could hold onto your collar, and up there the view would be a lot better than down on the seat… We wouldn’t see more than the inside of the car there.”  
  
Dean nodded along. The view they’d get hadn’t occurred to him. It would be like the times he used the seat for a bed if they stayed down there. Nothing to see but the sky and maybe a few passing treetops. “Works for me.” He glanced at Jacob for a second. “You up for it?”  
  
Jacob eyed up the shoulder with a critical gaze. If he was going to be sitting there for any length of time, he'd want to make sure he knew what he was getting into, if he _could_ prepare for something like that. It'd be tough to relate the feeling to anything else.  
  
"Yeah, I guess," he finally replied with another shrug.  
  
He remembered what the midwest looked like out on the road. The sky formed a dome overhead, and the horizon stretched out forever with every tree and silo easy to view even from miles away. Highways sped through blink-of-the-eye towns and a watercolor-painted sky surrounded them. After being cooped up in the motel for so long, Jacob missed that view.  
  
Now he'd be able to watch the miles disappear behind them as he got closer and closer to home.  
  
"I'm cool with it," Jacob said with greater conviction this time. "Best way to keep you awake, too. Can't have you falling asleep at the wheel."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “I have a feeling _I’ll_ be the one keeping you two up,” he shot easily back. After spending most of his life on the road, even when he wasn’t the one behind the wheel, he knew exactly how far he could push himself before he was falling asleep at the wheel. Tucking into a truck stop for a few hours of shut eye wasn’t unusual if he was in a hurry to reach his next stop and didn’t want to waste the time or money to find a motel on the way.  
  
Sleeping in the Impala, as cramped as it could get, relaxed him. Sitting out and staring up at the stars while having a beer was one of the few times he let himself remember his childhood years, recalling all the times he’d done the same (sans the beer) with Sam growing up. He’d always point out the constellation Orion, ‘the Hunter,’ to Sam, even before his younger brother knew about hunters and what their dad did. Sam would get excited whenever he could spot the belt, and even started to learn the names to the stars before he’d been taken away by that witch. Perhaps he hadn’t been killed like Dean always thought, but he’d been taken all the same.  
  
Before Dean lost himself in the past again, he forced himself to move his hand. Holding it steady next to his shoulder, he waited for the two brothers to climb on. Sam was first, his lightweight hands and feet finding purchase on Dean’s jacket as he went. Dean could feel his collar get moved around, and found himself carefully adjusting the rearview mirror with his free hand so he could see what they were up to.  
  
Once Sam was happy with the way the collar was, he sat so he was leaning against Dean’s neck, leaving plenty of room for Jacob.  
  
Jacob sat himself down quickly once he was on the shoulder. He didn't trust himself to keep his balance, and the slightest shift from Dean could send him tumbling. He imagined himself slipping off the front and falling right back into the pocket. He doubted gravity would have such lucky aim.  
  
He settled his bag close to him and made sure the collar was close enough to latch onto if he needed to. Jacob gripped the seam of the huge jacket, easily finding purchase with his much smaller hands, like his seat had a built in handle.  
  
It was definitely a weird sensation, sitting on someone's shoulder. Whether or not that someone was a giant compared to him. His best view of Dean's face, unless the human turned his head, was a profile view. Sam probably couldn't see Dean's face at all from right next to his neck.  
  
Jacob took a chance to look around the car from his vantage point. He could almost pretend he was the right size up here. That he was seeing the interior of the car from a normal human height. The memories were farther away every day, but some of them were still crisp for Jacob. It was like he was stuck between worlds.  
  
He glanced up at the rearview mirror and offered Dean a thumbs-up to let him know they were settled. Jacob still had a giddy feeling in his chest, sheer excitement for the endeavor he was about to take on. It was a huge journey in front of him, bigger than he could fathom taking on by himself. The fact that he could feel every minor shift in Dean's shoulder as he moved his arm below them drove the fact home.  
  
A key was shoved into the ignition. Jacob opened his mouth to ask what kind of car Dean was driving, intrigued by the classic looks and how clearly Dean cared for the vehicle. A loud rumble as the engine turned over drowned out his thoughts and distracted Jacob from his question. A ghost of a grin formed on his face. The car was a powerful one, whatever it was.  
  
Rock music surged out of the radio speakers and Jacob and Sam both flinched visibly. The volume was more than he expected and he found his hands automatically covering his ears. The abrupt volume had his heart pounding in spite of himself. Jacob had heard a TV in one of the motel rooms at a louder volume than this, but that had been from within the walls. He was still getting used to the way things were so much louder now that he had smaller, more sensitive ears.  
  
“Crap.” Dean switched the volume down to low. “Sorry about that. It was a long haul overnight to get here, and I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting small passengers when I showed up.”  
  
The music that flowed out of the speakers was much softer now, but Sam recognized it from his childhood. _Dad’s music,_ he thought in realization. His eyes trailed over the interior of the Impala, landing on a small (huge to him and Jacob) box of cassette tapes nestled down on the floor. It brought back so many memories from his childhood that he’d long since buried under new lessons and new experiences from being cursed.  
  
“Why such a big rush to get here?” Sam asked, suddenly curious. If Dean _hadn’t_ been in such a hurry, they might never have reunited. Jacob wouldn’t have experienced being trapped in a vase, but all things considered, things were finally looking up for the two curse victims.  
  
Dean started to shrug, then caught himself halfway through the motion. He tossed up a hand to guard against either of them tumbling, and sent Jacob an apologetic grimace in the rearview mirror. “I got that text from a number I couldn’t trace. Dad wouldn’t answer, the number wouldn’t answer… I figured it might be a hunt, so I hauled ass to town. I was expecting trouble… definitely wasn’t expecting to find victims, but no hunt.” He backed out of the space, determinedly leaving the motel behind.  
  
Sam watched as the world moved around the exterior of the car. “Whatever else, I’m glad it was you in that room.” He adjusted his seat again, kicking up a leg so it was just under the collar.  
  
Dean laughed beneath them, the sound echoing up out of his chest. “Yeah, well, I’m just glad you showed up when you did, kid. Otherwise this road trip might have been a little more awkward without you.”  
  
Jacob raised an eyebrow. His hands were still clutching the seam under his seat, but his focus was on what Dean said. Somehow he doubted this road trip would be happening at all if Sam hadn't shown up. Maybe Jacob would be alive, and maybe he'd be leaving with Dean, but he probably wouldn't be sitting casually up on his shoulder or chatting with the human. He'd be going against his will after refusing to reveal whether there were more like him.   
  
He certainly wouldn't be on his way home.  
  
"Agreed," he muttered, using the word to jar himself out of his thoughts before his imagination really ran with it like it enjoyed doing. "I'd say luck has been like ninety percent good the last few days," he quipped, thinking he could easily look past his time under a vase in light of what was happening.  
  
The car was leaving the parking lot of the motel. Jacob had to turn where he sat to watch the many doors with their cheap nailed-on numbers diminish behind them. The _Trails West_ sign benignly advertised plenty of vacancies. Sam and Jacob had been trapped there for years, humans coming and going as they pleased. Jacob would never be able to express how grateful he was to Walt and Mallory for taking him into their home, but he simply wasn't meant to be there.  
  
Jacob turned to face front again, high spirits and that giddy feeling returned. He glanced over the dashboard and the steering wheel of the car, then to the side along the bench seat. His question from before came back to him. "So, Dean, whatcha driving here? It's nice."  
  
“This baby?” Dean grinned, rubbing the steering wheel with a hand. “This here’s a 1967 Chevy Impala. Been in the family since before Sam an’ me were born. Hands down the best car you’ll find out there. Hell, I’ve probably spent more of my life in this car than anywhere else.”  
  
Sam spoke up, joining in. “Our dad was a mechanic, so he always took care of the repairs for her himself. Dean started to learn how to fix the Impala himself whenever we stayed at our friend Bobby’s place. He had an entire junkyard of broken cars out back. Dean would be fixing cars, I’d be off exploring the field and forest out back if I could slip away.”  
  
Dean let out a laugh. “I forgot about that. Dad came home early once and spent the morning thinking I lost you. Yelled at me for a good half hour when you just strolled right on in like nothing out of the ordinary happened, showing off some quartz you found buried out there.”  
  
Sam winced. “I got distracted and kind of forgot he was coming back soon.”  
  
“Anyway,” Dean said with a faint smirk at Sam’s sheepish tone, “I ended up inheriting the car when I turned 16. He upgraded to some big-ass truck. I wouldn’t give her up for the world, though. This baby’s pushing forty, and she still runs like new.”  
  
Jacob chuckled along with the stories. He probably would have wandered off, too. Growing up without much TV made him a very outdoorsy kid. He remembered numerous camping trips he'd taken before falling victim to the curse. Exploring the field would have called his name loud and clear.  
  
"Nice," he answered appreciatively. The shiny black metal of the hood certainly confirmed Dean's story. The Impala was a well-loved car, not a spot on her. "That's pretty lucky. I had a buddy growing up who was so mad when his dad sold his truck, he was always sure he'd get that thing. Complained about it for weeks."  
  
Jacob couldn't help but notice, as he thought about his school days, that his childhood was so vastly different to Sam's and Dean's separate childhoods. They'd had it rough even before Sam's curse, from what he heard. Jacob had always known the money pinch, especially after his dad died and reduced the house to one source of income, but he'd at least been able to stay in place.  
  
“Yeah, well I think he was too attached to think of selling her,” Dean said. “He thought a truck would be better for hunting. I’ve seen the thing. It definitely is _not_ inconspicuous. The Impala will blend into the background before that truck does.” Dean had made modifications of his own since inheriting the car, especially changing around the trunk to fit his own way of doing things. Others called it haphazard and unorganized, Dean called it having character.  
  
The Impala reached the highway. Only a few other cars dotted the road at that time in the morning, the sun hanging high in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another option for the title of the chapter: Dean screws everything up, but tries.
> 
> *****The story ends 10/23! A new poll will be up this SATURDAY to decide the next story to post!*****
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 16 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and reviews are love!


	24. Getting In the Door

“So Jacob,” Dean started, feeling curious about the kid his little brother had adopted while they were separated. He didn’t want to come across as too forward, so he decided to try and stick to details he’d actually need to know when he found Jacob’s family. “Your mom. Is there anything you can tell me about her? Since I’ve gotta find a way to break this… revelation to her.”  
  
Jacob broke out of his daze, watching field after field of corn or sunflowers speed by as the Impala ate up the highway towards their destination. "Huh? Oh," he paused, falling into thought about the question. He had a thousand memories of his mom, and there was plenty he could say about her. But he doubted all of it would be relevant to Dean's side of this endeavor.  
  
"Well, uh, we're Greek, so she's big on family and also the church," he began, unsure if this was helpful information at all. How prepared could Dean really be to tell a woman her son hadn't died or disappeared, but was merely the size of her finger now?  
  
"Um. We were kinda dirt poor so she worked two or three jobs depending on the time of the year ... She never really acted all that stressed though, so I guess she had her peace figured out or something." Jacob chuckled and shrugged self-consciously. "I dunno if any of this is any good, man, sorry."  
  
It suddenly struck Jacob that he had many memories of how his mother was _before_ his curse, but nothing after. How had the investigation gone? Had she continued to go to church and pray? What did her family say? What did Jacob's father's family say? Did she still even have to work as hard only supporting one person?  
  
A lot could happen in three years. Jacob hardly recognized himself. He wondered how much she might have changed.  
  
Dean nodded. “I’ll figure it out. I mean, kinda hard for anyone to deny your existence when you’ll be right there with me. I guess you can just chill in a pocket with Sam, at least until we know it’s safe for you to come out.” Revealing that Jacob had survived would be a very hard thing for his mother to take. Dean felt that guilt, built up from the realization that he’d essentially _abandoned_ Sam as a child in that motel. All alone.  
  
In a way, Jacob’s mom would share the same burden as Dean. Family had been left behind to fend for themselves. No way to get in contact. No way to even know if their family would believe them if they found them. Sam and Jacob had survived, and now it was time for them to both come home.  
  
“I’ll only pull you out if I’m _sure_ it’s safe,” Dean said reassuringly. “Or you can always give me a punch if you think you’ll be good coming out sooner.”  
  
Jacob nodded. Dean's seriousness reminded him of how careful they'd need to play this. He was going to see another human. She may be family, but she was giant compared to him and that meant she was dangerous. They needed to be sure that she wouldn't completely freak out at him or try to grab him too hard to look him over. After seeing the way Dean had quickly accepted feedback on how to handle people Jacob and Sam's size (and how _not_ to), Jacob thought Dean was up for the task.  
  
"Oh, just thought of something. Greek Orthodox, pretty Catholic, so iffy about magic I guess? I don't think I ever heard what Mom thought about it but she might be skeptical at first." Jacob wracked his brain for something, but couldn't think of anything specific he'd heard from his mom on the subject. He never believed in any of it until he'd been cursed himself, and he only ever heard his grandma griping about the evil eye sometimes.  
  
"Guess if she sees me she'll have to believe anyway, though, huh?" Leading up to the reveal might get tricky for Dean. He was practically bringing her lost son back from the dead, but once she saw Jacob she'd _have_ to know it was him.  
  
Dean winced. _This’ll be fun,_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. The last thing he wanted to do was worry Jacob about the reunion with his mom. Dean had difficulty with intransigent witnesses, and had a tendency to be too blunt with the truth. His father was the same way. They both lacked a certain quality in their ‘people skills’ when it came to consoling traumatized victims.  
  
Considering Jacob’s life was on the line, Dean would do his best. Jacob and Sam were both much more vulnerable than they should be and Jacob’s mom could be dangerous without even meaning it. Family was more important than anything, so he needed to help mend Jacob’s without putting the kid at risk.  
  
“Seeing you will probably be the key,” Dean decided. “Everything up to then is going to be the hard part. At least I’m not telling her that her son is a shapeshifter, bent on murdering his close family.” Dean winced. “That was a fun case. The thing kept weaseling its way into different families and taking out whoever was closest to the person whose face it stole.”  
  
Sam chimed in for the first time since leaving the motel behind. He’d been patiently watching the fields pass by outside the windows, listening in on the conversation. “How’d you figure that one out? If it was taking on other faces than its own…”  
  
“Camera flare.” Dean gestured at the mirror. “If you looked at it in a camera, its eyes would flash white. Even with that, the sucker lead me on a real chase. Even stole my face for a bit before I took it down.”  
  
Jacob raised his eyebrows. "You took it out while it had your face?" _That’s freaky as hell._ Dean had to kill something that could have posed as him to anyone he knew and fooled them. Jacob had to believe that shapeshifters existed after what he'd experienced, but he never had any idea they could be so monstrous.  
  
He had a feeling that a lot of the non-human things Dean encountered might be just as bad. Suddenly the suspicious behavior with Jacob made sense. Once again Jacob was glad he hadn't given Dean a reason to think he might be hurting someone.  
  
Curiosity struck. "So, did it cause any shit while it was 'you?’ " he asked. He could only imagine a creature like that causing trouble to the very end. Since no one would be able to know its true identity, any crimes would be pinned on the person it impersonated.  
  
Once again, Dean found himself wincing. “There was a girl in town, and her brother was one of the people that the creature framed. I came to investigate and got jumped by the freak. It apparently needed me alive, so it could impersonate me… some kind of psychic connection or something. Like a Vulcan mind meld. By the time I got myself out of the bindings it tied me up in, it was already at her house.”  
  
And then he was at the fun part. “Since I couldn’t get there on time, I had to call the police on myself. They saved the girl, and I tracked down the shapeshifter after it was chased away from her house. With the APB out on me, I had to dodge the cops and grab my car back before they… searched the trunk.”  
  
He figured it didn’t hurt if Jacob knew some of his secrets. Considering how much Jacob and Sam were relying on him, they weren’t about to rat him out. “If they saw the arsenal I’ve built up, I’d never get out of jail. They’d think I was a terrorist or something.”  
  
Dean chanced a glance in the rearview mirror so he could see their reaction to his story so far. Two small faces were rapt with fascination. Strange how interesting a story like that could be. He’d never really stopped to consider how odd his life was. It was just how he’d always figured he’d go. Save a few people, kill some monsters… follow in his father’s footsteps.  
  
“And that’s pretty much it,” Dean summed up. “I shot the thing with a silver bullet, and the murder that the girl’s brother was framed for ended up being blamed on this ‘Dean Winchester’ guy, along with a few others that the shapeshifter did in town. If they ever figure out the body they buried isn’t me, I might end up with some trouble down the line. And I doubt I’ll ever be able to set foot in St. Louis again, but that’s okay. The city wasn’t that interesting, anyway.”  
  
He gave them a smirk through the mirror. “I missed my own funeral, though. I was curious to see what they said about me there.”  
  
Broken from the story, Sam found himself rolling his eyes again. “Y’know, I’m not sure that _that’s_ the part you should be focusing on here.”  
  
“Hey! How many people can say they went to their own funeral?” Dean grinned at the thought.  
  
 _Silver bullets. APB. Holy shit._ Jacob was firing off thoughts at random as the story really sank in. It was an entirely new perspective on the hunter lifestyle that he simply hadn't heard before. Sam had some things to say, but he hadn't really been in the thick of things before. Plus, Jacob couldn’t forget the things Walt had to say about hunters, and for good reason. Most hunters would never be talking to them so amiably like Dean.  
  
"So you took yourself off the grid, pretty much ... I bet that's pretty useful actually, even if you have to miss out on a grand place like St. Louis," he mused. Considering Dean had to drive all over the place all the time, it probably helped that he officially no longer existed. Jacob couldn't imagine someone in Dean's line of work wanting to be bogged down by things like the IRS.  
  
Fighting werewolves and shapeshifters _probably_ didn't compare to such everyday things.  
  
Jacob found himself wondering briefly what they might have said at _his_ funeral. Was there an empty grave somewhere? Did his extended family all show up and have a quiet, awkward potluck (probably)? What did his friends from school think about it? It had been so long since he saw them. Would those guys even recognize him now?  
  
Jacob slipped out of those thoughts before their gloom could really take hold. He glanced over at Sam before saying "Well you know, Dean, you're not the only badass here." He grinned in his mock boastfulness. "Sam and I killed a rat a while back."  
  
“Rats.” Dean held a hand out, estimating a distance with his fingers. “Ain’t they about yea big?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s a _mouse,_ Dean. Mice are _harmless,_ and helpful. Rats are bigger than me or Jacob. Think about… bear sized, if you were cursed like us. Bear sized and nasty. Walt… our adopted father… he’d have us search them out so the motel didn’t get known for pests. If pest control found its way there, we’d be killed off, same as the rats and mice.”  
  
A begrudging respect filled Dean’s face. “So you two took on an animal the size of a bear? How’d you manage that one?”  
  
Sam grinned at the pride hidden in Dean’s voice. Proud. His big brother was _proud_ of him. “Jacob managed to grab its tail and yanked it off balance. I had my knife, and Walt’s got a razor, so we finished it off.”  
  
Dean pursed his lips. “Sounds like you two are the kind of backup I could use,” he said in response. “Taking on a rat like that, you’re both pretty much ninjas that can climb up a sheer cliff… I better not underestimate either of you.”  
  
Jacob raised his eyebrows, a surprised smile lighting up his face. He may have been bragging about their accomplishment, but he hadn't expected a compliment like that. He'd spent three years at a size that made him easy to underestimate, Sam even longer. In fact, Dean _had_ underestimated Jacob because of his size a couple times in their first hours knowing each other.  
  
It was easy to underestimate someone that was so small a _rat_ could cause them some trouble. Dean could dispatch a rat with ease, just wringing the neck or giving it a quick toss.  
  
"That's right," Jacob replied, recovering from the surprise. "Ninjas, I like the sound of that one." Hearing someone who fought monsters regularly say such a thing would probably stick with Jacob for a while. It was a rare confidence boost. Maybe Jacob couldn't climb nearly as fast as Sam (and probably never would, all challenges aside), but he could still do it. He could make a sheer climb, and most people couldn't do that.  
  
The rest of the ride was surprisingly companionable, after everything they’d gone through together. Occasional stories passed between them, Dean sharing a bit from hunting, Sam and Jacob telling the human what it was like to find themselves in a world they didn’t fit in anymore. Sam and Jacob got a dose of perspective that they hadn’t had to confront in a long time, and Dean heard about the world from a view he’d never even considered.  
  
Most of the stories ended up coming from Sam, with Jacob backing him up. Dean didn’t share anything about his years growing up alone. Just the hunts, and a bit of reminiscing from his childhood when Sam was still around. Otherwise, he’d clam right up until Sam changed subjects. It was still nervewracking to see Dean’s jaw clench when he thought of those years. It made Sam want to know more than ever what he’d gone through, but he let it slide. He didn’t know Dean’s limits yet, and pushing the limits of a hunter twenty times their size could be dangerous.  
  
Eventually the rolling fields turned to the city limits of Carlisle, Iowa. Dean had a map alongside him, glancing down on occasion to try and find the road Jacob’s mother had relocated too. Sam decided to climb down, catching his brother off guard at first when his slight weight vanished from the shoulder. In the end, he started calling up street names to Dean, easily directing him towards their destination. The small, cluttered lines on the roadmap were child’s play for Sam to read at his size. The trip got smoother after that, leading them down a maze of streets.  
  
Until they finally pulled onto Baybrook Lane.  
  
The Impala came to a halt, parking on the opposite side of the road from the house Dean had marked as belonging to Mariana Andris. Sam didn’t waste any time climbing back up Dean’s arm while the other two were staring out at the house, surveying what would hopefully become Jacob’s new home.  
  
Jacob's eyes darted over every corner of the home, drinking in details. The tan siding looked well-kept. The lawn was vibrant green, and flowerbeds near the house were full of colors. The small porch had small, faded statues of animals tucked on the corner of each step. Jacob's heart ached to see them. He'd given those to his mom some Mother's Day when he was young enough that his dad helped him pick them out. Now they were bigger than he was.  
  
"That's the place," he confirmed. "Holy shit," he added in barely more than a whisper.  
  
He didn't recognize either of the cars in the driveway. He tilted his head at the fact that there were two of them. Either someone was visiting, or ... Jacob had a hard time imagining his mother remarrying, but a lot could happen in three years. He knew that all too well.  
  
His nerves picked up again and Jacob had to stuff his hands into his hoodie pockets to control the tremors in them. Soon enough he'd see his mother. After having made peace with the fact that she was gone and he'd never see her again, Jacob would be able to see her. He'd come home.  
  
"O-okay, so," he began, "I guess ... we'd better hide? How are you gonna get in the door?"  
  
“That’s the easy part,” Dean said. “I do this all the time. I’ve got a badge from the Weekly World News, so I can just knock and let them know I’m a reporter that’s writing an article on your disappearance all those years ago. Maybe tell them that there was new evidence found and I was hoping to get their input on it all.”  
  
Dean held his hand up to his shoulder for the pair to climb onto his hand. “That should get me in the door. All we need is to find an opportunity to bring you up, and once you’re out in the open, it should all be smooth sailing. Just like when I saw Sam. Having someone standing right in front of her should make it easier to take in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They have reached their destination and Dean has a plan. What could possibly go wrong at this point?
> 
> **Next:** Coming October 18 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments or kudos are love!
> 
> *****The story ends 10/23! Please vote in[this poll](http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/151841234459/what-story-should-post-next) to help decide which story posts next! Voting ends 10/21*****


	25. Homecoming

Sam got onto Dean's hand, followed by Jacob’s light weight. Dean brought them in front of his face for a brief moment. “It’ll all be over soon,” he reassured them. Jacob would have his family back, then Dean would be able to see if Sam wanted to stick around a little longer. He’d bring Sam back to the motel if he had to… but everything in him was desperate for that second chance with his brother. He didn’t want to let it slip between his fingers like he had so many years ago.  
  
This time when he opened his pocket, Dean lowered that hand down and stuck two fingers into the pocket, testing out a different way of getting them into it by letting them take the reins. Sam was the first, carefully climbing down the fingers, then dropping into the depths of the pocket and vanishing.  
  
Jacob followed Sam's lead, finding it a lot easier to get his balance in the bottom of the pocket this way. He settled down quickly, sitting in a corner opposite Sam to make sure they had plenty of room, and pulled his satchel onto his lap. Huddled in a pocket again, only this time when a door opened once more he was on his way home. Jacob's stomach did flips as the loud metallic creak reached his ears, and he gripped the fabric of the pocket as Dean stepped out of the Impala. Jacob flinched with the sound of the car door slamming behind them.  
  
Only a few sauntering steps had rattled through them before Jacob gave in to temptation. He shifted carefully, and pulled himself to a cautious stand in the swaying pocket. It took a lot of focus not to fall right back down. Every step Dean took bounced the pocket.  
  
He got his hands on the edge of the pocket, but refrained from pushing the flap out of the way. Instead, Jacob could tilt his head at just the right angle and see through the slit on the pocket flap meant for the button. He had a view of Dean's walk towards the house. The place where Jacob had come home to reunite with his family. Another thrill of giddy excitement fluttered in his heart.  
  
Jacob couldn't help but imagine a reunion like Sam and Dean's. Disbelief, and then a desperate embrace (or as close as Dean could manage with someone that fit in his hand). Almost tearing up with the raw emotion of seeing someone he thought dead for thirteen years.  
  
The chime of the doorbell echoed distantly in the house, and Jacob took a deep breath. There was a seasonal wreath of colorful purple and blue flowers hanging on the door, and it filled his vision through the narrow view. There were footsteps approaching; one thing he'd never be able to miss was the casual gait of a human walking around, even from a distance.  
  
There was a click of a lock and the door pulled away, and she was right there. A petite woman, Mariana Andris couldn't stand more than 5'5”, leaving her well below Dean's height. She was somewhat plump, with a round face that had the faintest traces of a confused but polite smile on it. Jacob hadn't inherited her body type, but he'd inherited her smile for sure. It felt too good to see it again and he let out a quiet breath of air as if someone had hit him in the gut.  
  
Mariana had thick brown curls framing her face, which she tried to push behind her ears to face the stranger at the door a little better. In a small town like Carlisle, it was hard to find a neighbor one didn't recognize, at least in passing, and it was clear in Mariana's eyes that she was trying to figure out if she knew Dean from somewhere. "Well, ah, hello, sir," she greeted, fingertips drumming absently on the edge of the door as she offered up a friendly smile. "Can I help you?"  
  
Dean gave her an equally friendly smile back, turning on the charm that got him inside the door at many different houses during his cases. Or got him an easy time at the bar. “Afternoon, ma’am. My name is Lars Ulrich.” He fished inside his jacket, pulling out one of his many ID’s. Dean held it up to her. “I’m with the Weekly World News. I’ve actually been working on an article about the disappearance of Jacob Andris some years back.”  
  
Tucking the the ID back into his jacket, Dean straightened slightly. “There’s been some new information come to light in the last few months and I’m here to fact check with you.” He paused for effect. “You _are_ Mariana Andris, yes?”  
  
Mariana's expression shifted in a quick but subtle way. While the polite smile mostly remained, it faltered and her eyes changed. The mere mention of her son's name made her swallow tightly as if suddenly parched.  
  
"N-new evidence ...?" she echoed, her voice wavering somewhere between hope and incredulity. Jacob felt an ache in his heart to see the way she stiffened, no doubt with memories rushing to the fore of her mind at the reminder. He could see in her eyes that she still paused to cry once in a while and wanted so much to peek out of the pocket right then and there, tell her he had come _home_.  
  
"Uhm, yes, I'm Mariana Andris," she recovered with a tight voice, stepping back and opening the door a little wider to admit the would-be reporter. Her mouth opened to ask something, but a voice from the side hall interrupted.  
  
"Who is it, babe?" preceded the owner of the voice as a man with darker skin joined them in the entry way. He had broader shoulders than Dean but he wasn't quite as tall. Even at his new size and after three years, Jacob recognized the man right away.  
  
_No fucking way,_ Jacob thought, so surprised that he dropped back to the bottom of the pocket. It was an old friend of the family that Jacob met not long after his dad died. And, apparently, Mike had married Jacob's mother sometime after his disappearance. It was jarring, to say the least.  
  
He glanced over at Sam in surprise and mouthed _My mom married a cop,_ more than a little concern entering his eyes over the fact.  
  
After all, Dean's face was that of a supposed killer.  
  
He tilted his head to listen in on the conversation outside the pocket. His mother spoke again. "Mike, this is Mr. Ulrich, h-he's a reporter and he says they have new evidence in Jacob's case."  
  
The man who would be Jacob's stepfather inclined his head and offered Dean a hand to shake. "Mike Ellison," he greeted. "Not to jump the gun here, but why haven't the Kansas police contacted Mariana about this?"  
  
Dean ignored the movement in his pocket. He couldn’t blame Jacob for being excited to be there, after all. With them sitting directly against his chest, every movement was obvious.  
  
Dean shook the man’s hand amicably. “Lars. Pleasure to meet you.”  
  
He straightened after that, focusing on the question. “In fact, jumping the gun is just what they were trying to avoid. The new evidence is… delicate. To say the least.”  
  
An image of Jacob, trapped and squirming in Dean’s own hand, jumped to his mind. Every struggle meaningless. Hell, Dean had barely _noticed_ most of the struggles, let alone been affected by them. “I’ve been working on this for some time, and thought it was time to bring you in on what we found.”  
  
Dean glanced around the room. “Is there a table we can have this talk at? It might make things easier on you. I understand this is a… painful subject. I lost my brother in a similar case back when we were young, so I’ve always been drawn to cases like this. Just trying to find any clues I can to help out other families, maybe help them through hard times.”  
  
Mike's brow pinched with some faint skepticism, wondering how a reporter could get ahold of something like this first. By contrast, Mariana's face became sympathetic, so he didn't say anything. If there was a chance at finding out more about what happened to Jacob, they'd take it. "Sure, sure, Lars. Right in here," he said, and led the way into the house.  
  
Mariana walked a little slower, her eyes shining with tears that wouldn't flow just yet. In the hall, she brushed a hand over a framed photo of a young boy, who couldn't be more than six, laughing on the shoulders of a tall man. Next her fingertips found the frame of a more recent photo of Jacob, the same one from the article Dean had found.  
  
"I'm so sorry about your brother, Lars," she said quietly, in a voice conveying empathy for the same pain he'd been through, before they made it to a living room.  
  
“I’ve had time to come to terms with what happened to Sammy,” Dean answered softly, his hand absently going to the amulet around his neck. There was a slight movement from inside the pocket, but no way to know what they were doing. For all he knew, he’d startled them with his automatic reflex, brushing lightly against the pocket that currently held Sam, safe and sound and _alive_.  
  
Along with her Jacob.  
  
They continued into the next room. Two sofas faced a coffee table, which held a few magazines that Mike was already tidying up and stacking to one side to make things more presentable. The room had a cozy, lived-in air about it, and the windows were cracked open to let in a breeze. The atmosphere hardly seemed to notice the heavy news that Dean had brought into the home.  
  
Mike gestured to one of the sofas while Mariana, fidgeting with her hands, sank into the other. She seemed shaken, like a gentle tap might knock her right over. Mike let her squeeze one of his hands in her much smaller one before glancing over at Dean. "D'you want anything to drink? Water, tea?"  
  
Dean shook his head and said “No, but thank you. Very much.”  
  
“It’s been over thirteen years since I lost Sam,” Dean said as he sat down on the sofa, doing his best to move slow for his small passengers. He sat as far forward as he could, folding his hands over his knees. Normally, he’d never bring up the painful past, or anything that was related to Sam, but this here was a special case. This woman had gone through the same pain in her life.  
  
“But we’re here for Jacob right now,” Dean continued. “Tell me, what do you know about the case all those years ago?” If he found out what they knew, he might find a way to approach the fact that Jacob _wasn’t_ dead.  
  
Or maybe Jacob would get bored and just decide to come out. Whatever worked. This was his ballgame as much as it was Dean’s.  
  
"Oh," Mariana breathed, her voice tight with emotion. She clasped her hands in front of her mouth and closed her eyes, calling up some of her most painful memories and trying to compose herself at the same time. She hardly seemed to notice when Mike sat down beside her, a supportive hand on her back. There was only the faintest dip in the tension in her shoulders.  
  
She sniffled and then took a deep, slow breath, finally opening her eyes and lowering her hands. "We ... Jacob and I, were taking a little trip, just the two of us, to Colorado. We stopped in Haven because I didn't want to drive at night on roads I didn't know ... That's not safe, y'know? A-anyway, we'd only been checked in an hour or two, and I left to get some takeout. When I came back ... Jacob was just _gone._ All of his things were still there." Mariana had to pause to clear her throat.  
  
Coming back to that room and finding her son gone had been eerie. As the time ticked by with no trace of him ... nothing could adequately describe a mother's fear.  
  
"The um. The security footage didn't show anything suspicious, and the desk clerk didn't see anybody coming or going ... Th-the police didn't find any signs of a struggle and their search parties didn't find anything." Her mouth curved into a frown, and she blinked a few times to hold back tears. "They never found anything of my son and after a year the only news I got was that they had presumed him dead. No one could find who took him or why ... No ransom notes ever came. And Jacob was _not_ the kind to run away. He just wasn't."  
  
Dean took a deep breath. “No, he _wasn’t_ ,” he agreed. His own chest was tight, remembering how it had felt to see Sam vanish right before his very eyes… and thinking he was about to follow. There had been times when he’d thought life would be easier if he’d gone with his brother. He wouldn’t have to try and _live_ without Sam.  
  
For Mariana, that living hell would end after three years, versus Dean’s thirteen. In the end, all that mattered was that Jacob and Sam were still alive. Not that they were small enough to be held in a hand.  
  
Dean’s lips tightened. “This might be hard to hear,” he started. “I was recently in Haven, checking around the area to see what I could find. Jacob… He never died. And he never ran away. He just didn’t have a way to get a message to you, but trust me, he wanted to, more than anything.”  
  
Dean reached up, hesitantly pushing the flap of his pocket up and dipping two fingers into the pocket. He waited to feel Jacob climb on to the fingers, knowing it was time to show Mariana her son.  
  
Jacob's limbs were jelly, but he was ready. He pulled himself up, almost slipping back into the pocket in his sheer nervousness. He sent a nervous smile to Sam before hoisting himself onto Dean's hand. A deep, shaky breath accompanied the feeling of the huge hand lifting him the rest of the way out.  
  
He was crouched on Dean's palm, one hand clutching the strap of his satchel as had become his nervous habit. Across the table, his mother had a wide eyed look of shock in her eyes and a hand over her mouth. Mike sported a confused frown. He was sitting up straight with his eyes fixed on the tiny figure that Dean lowered carefully to the table.  
  
Mariana sniffled and blinked rapidly at what she saw. Jacob stepped off Dean's hand and looked up at her, searching for recognition. He could see it there, in the way her eyes flickered over him taking in the details of his miniscule form. "Is ... that ... ?" She glanced up and Dean must have nodded, because she looked back at Jacob again.  
  
"Then ... I left him?" she said, her voice hollow and wound tightly with grief and guilt. Jacob didn't say a word. His own voice was locked up in his throat to see her this way.  
  
She stared for a long time, not moving. Her husband sat next to her, his critical eyes fixed on Jacob. His intent gaze unsettled Jacob, but his focus was all reserved for his mother.  
  
Mariana wanted to believe, Jacob could tell. She wanted to believe that it was really her son standing there at less than four inches tall. He had no idea if she'd ever thought magic and curses and stuff like that was real. But he could tell that right now, she wanted so desperately to believe it. He waited for her to believe it, too. She had to.  
  
Jacob clenched his jaw. His mother's hand approached slowly, her fingertips knitting the air with faint, nervous twitches. Jacob stood his ground, and watched as she reached for him. He couldn't run away from his own mom. Not after coming so far just to find her.  
  
An instinct told him to run, to keep her hand from getting to him. _Humans are dangerous,_ his fear warned. _Once they have you they won't let you go and you can't make them._ He knew that truth intimately well.  
  
The other humans in the room seemed to disappear. Dean, keeping silent sentinel behind. Mike, technically Jacob's stepfather, squinting in disbelief and glancing between Jacob and Mariana thoughtfully. Jacob hardly registered them because he was so focused on the teary look in his mother's eyes above. Jacob chanced a tense smile, and her lips parted in a quiet gasp that became a sob.  
  
Jacob suppressed a shudder when the hand finally got to him. He caught the scent of apple-fragranced hand lotion as long fingers slipped behind him. The index fingertip bumped his shoulder. Jacob couldn't help but think about how he was already much taller than his mom when he saw her last. Now, a single fingertip would be enough to knock him over. _Doesn’t matter. She’s still my mom._  
  
"Oh my God," she whispered, barely more than a breath. Furrows formed in her brow. Jacob found himself surrounded by a shaking hand. Her fingers curled loosely around him and her thumb braced against his chest. Jacob couldn't help but become tense when his boots left the table behind. He swallowed his nerves over how insecurely he was held. The faint tilt of her grasp left him leaning back against a net of fingers while her thumb still held him in place from the front. Despite the discomfort, he let a faint smile flicker onto his face.  
  
Jacob was a few inches in the air when her hand stopped. His own brow pinched with confusion as he watched her expression. It slowly shifted. Incredulous, hopeful awe slowly paled away to be replaced by a deep grief that forced the tears in her eyes down her cheeks at last.  
  
Jacob flinched when her fingers twitched and her hand started to shake a little more. He tried to keep his hopes up, but something in Jacob's heart fluttered with a growing worry.  
  
Something was _wrong._  
  
No sooner had he thought this than Jacob's stomach leapt to his throat as he suddenly dropped. His mother set him down rapidly and her hand retreated as if burned. His feet hit the table so hard that he staggered and fell backwards. His wrists twinged to match his ankles when he caught himself on his hands.  
  
Mariana had her hand over her mouth as she stared down at him. "No, Mom, don't cry," Jacob said, speaking to her again for the first time since he was fourteen years old. "It's really me-"  
  
“ _Stop it,_ ” she spat suddenly, making Jacob shut his mouth and flinch. A hard look flashed in her eyes and she looked across the table at Dean. "I don't know _what_ you're doing with your sick little puppet act here, but just _stop._ Did you expect me to believe something like this could happen?"  
  
"What?! No!" Jacob spoke up, getting hastily to his feet and stumbling towards his mother. He had one hand held up towards her as if to push back the upset cynicism forming there. "Mom, it's me! I'm just smaller!" he insisted. Jacob felt like he was trying to catch broken glass from a shattered window before it hit the ground.  
  
He could never catch all of it, and what he did manage to get only cut him to ribbons.  
  
His hopes, built up so high over the last 24 hours, were burning down before his eyes.  
  
A look of disgust flashed across her mournful face. Before Jacob knew it she'd reached down and shoo'd him backwards, shoving him with the back of her fingers. He stumbled several steps before falling over again. Jacob's heart pounded frantically in his chest as he propped himself up again and stared in horror up at his mother.  
  
She was _rejecting him_.  
  
This wasn't how it was supposed to go!  
  
"Mom ..." His voice was shaky and weak.  
  
Tears streamed freely from her eyes now. "Stop it! Stop it now! Why did you have to come here, put this thing in front of me and imply that I ... that my _son_ got shrunk and that I _abandoned_ my only child?! Why would you do that?! You're sick!" Her eyes flickered between Dean and Jacob, blurred by all the tears that filled them.  
  
And then, her blurry glare settled on where Jacob had fallen. "Take your tricks and your mind games and get the hell out."  
  
She lifted her hand. She was preparing to backhand Jacob right off the table to get him away from her, out of her sight. Ice filled Jacob's veins. He'd never be able to avoid that strike. It'd be like getting hit by a semi. Jacob would be broken before he ever hit the floor.  
  
He twitched backwards in a panic before desperately putting his arms over his head and curling up to wait for the impact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** Coming October 20 th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love! <3
> 
> *****The story ends 10/23! Please vote in[this poll](http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/151841234459/what-story-should-post-next) to help decide which story posts next! Voting ends 10/21*****


	26. Family

Dean saw the situation disintegrating right in front of them.  
  
After all the time they’d been rooting for Jacob, assuming they’d see a happy reunion, it was like a wall had formed between the hopeful kid and his goal. The disbelief in Mariana’s eyes destroyed their chances for a good outcome.  
  
Dean hadn’t been able to do anything to stop her from dropping Jacob. It had been _so_ close… He’d seen the look in her eyes that said she _wanted_ to believe… There had been almost no warning before her light, tenuous grasp on her son had loosened. Dean had heard the sound of Jacob hitting the table and knew it was painful. She’d dropped him like a stone.  
  
Dean would be dammed if he let her _swat_ Jacob, too.  
  
Before her hand covered the last few inches, Dean’s own hand closed around Jacob’s small body. He gave the teenager a mere second to curl into a ball before tightening his grasp around him, completely sealing him from view inside a protective fist. The hand would be a barrier that would keep Jacob from getting hurt. Dean lifted his hand against his chest as he stumbled to a startled stand. He could feel Sam bounce once in the pocket, probably knocked down while trying to see what was going on outside the fabric confines.  
  
Jacob was _shaking_ in Dean’s hand. He could have _died_ if that blow had hit, no question about it. Dean swallowed, realizing just how vulnerable the teen was. His own _family_ had come close to hurting him… closer than even _Dean_ had come after an entire morning thinking Jacob might be a dangerous supernatural creature.  
  
Clutching Jacob close to the pocket that concealed Sam, Dean stared slack-jawed at Mariana and Mike. “What… what are you _talking_ about?! Puppet? This is _Jacob_ … he--”  
  
"That's enough," Mike cut in, standing too. Mariana wilted and retreated into herself, hands covering her face. Her hands muffled her quiet weeping and her husband stood protectively near her while all of her heartache resurfaced. Mike shot her a worried glance before focusing his growing anger on Dean.  
  
"I dunno where the fuck you got the idea to mess with a _grieving mother_ like this, but _you know where the door is._ I'll give you one shot and if I see you lurking around town again I'll write you up myself." Mike had a hard look in his eyes and a toughness in his stance. His instincts as a police officer told him to be ready for anything, but for now he just wanted the man out of his house so he could console his wife.  
  
In Dean's hand, Jacob didn't bother trying to stop his shaking. That voice, one that he'd only ever known to be friendly, was so venomous now. His mother's crying hurt to hear. There was no way to get through to her.  
  
His own mother might have _killed_ him.  
  
Dean retreated from the venom in both of them, no idea what to do. His own instincts screeched at him to get out of there before he made it worse. Before he got into trouble with two very small and vulnerable lives depending on him. None of them could afford him being thrown bodily out of the house least of all the quivering kid clutched in his hand.  
  
The last he saw of Mariana was her hunched over form, crying over a loss that her own mind wouldn’t let her believe was anything but permanent. Dean’s own shoulders slumped, and he quickly escaped the house, desperate to check on Jacob and see how he was doing.  
  
Dean had _failed_.  
  
Jacob was counting on him, and Dean had let him down.  
  
He didn’t risk revealing Jacob until he’d made it all the way back to the Impala, his own safe haven and home. His fingers loosened enough to give the teen some space and do away with the risk of crushing him. He didn’t want to add to the pain that must be crushing him at that very moment as his life faded before his eyes.  
  
The door slammed shut and Dean started to breathe again. “Shit,” he murmured sadly. He unfolded his hand, revealing the small guy wearing jeans and a hoodie lying there in a mournful hunch. The guy that had just watched his family slip away in an even more permanent fashion than the curse had ever done.  
  
Dean’s other hand came up, cupping around to give Jacob more security as the hunter’s green eyes checked him over. “Jacob… I…” Dean trailed off. He had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry,” was all that he could pull together.  
  
Even though he was no longer confined to Dean's fist, Jacob lay there on the huge palm as if thousands of pounds of pressure crushed him into it. For a moment, all he heard was the pounding of his heart, drowning out all other sensations. His first attempt to push himself up resulted in him flopping over again, arms too weak to support him. He shook with fear and with overwhelming sadness. The look in his mother’s eyes burned him even in memory.  
  
"It's ... not your fault," he croaked, pausing to try to clear his throat. He sat up laboriously, feeling like his chest was being ripped apart by claws made of ice. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. He couldn't do it.  
  
Jacob finally met those huge green eyes with his own brown ones wide and stinging with tears. His lips formed a thin line and he tried desperately to make sense of what happened. His own mother, rather than accept that she might have left him and that magic had something to do with his disappearance, had rejected him. Called him a _thing_ and tried to shove him away.  
  
Like a gnat. An insignificant, annoying little nuisance. In her eyes, he was merely a foul replica of something she loved, not a person, and certainly not the person she ached to see again.  
  
"I-I uh. I guess maybe I c-coulda foreseen that, maybe. I mean who wants to hear that they abandoned their kid, right? And like this I'm so different a-and even I had a hard time believing that I got _cursed_ , so--" Jacob's voice cut off as his throat tightened around an almost sob. His attempts to rationalize it only made the pain worse. His vision blurred with tears he tried to hold back.  
  
He ran both of his hands back through his hair, mussing it up while he stared blankly at nothing. "Wh-why didn't she just ... look a little _closer?_ "  
  
The tears in his eyes finally sprang free. With a grimace of pain that was nearly physical, Jacob put a hand over his eyes while the other curled into a tight, shaking fist. His shoulders hunched and he was helpless against the onslaught of emotions from losing his mother all over again.  
  
Dean’s face deepened in a brief scowl, staring down at the state Jacob was left in. He’d had to relive losing his family all over again, and all because Dean had caught him and offered to bring him there. The scowl was fleeting, vanishing from his face even as Sam finally managed to get his feet under him in the pocket, pushing up the flap so he could see out.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Dean went with his first instinct. His thumb touched lightly against Jacob’s shoulder, showing his support the way a pat on the back would do if they were at the same scale. “None of us had any idea how she’d react,” he said quietly. “Who’d think a grieving mother would have a harder time accepting her son’s survival than a hunter, right? You're safe here, Jacob. Me an’ Sam will make sure of it, whatever it takes.”   
  
Every word was the truth. Whatever Jacob decided in the end, Dean would make sure that he got there safe and sound. He owed Jacob everything. Without Jacob, Dean wouldn’t have his little brother tucked in his pocket that very second.  
  
With that out in the air, Dean cupped his hand against his chest the same way he’d done with Sam barely two days before. With the hand cupped against the pocket, Sam was included in the hug as well. He squirmed to the side of the pocket closest to Jacob, throwing a hand over his shoulder to show his own support.  
  
Jacob took a few seconds to let himself drown in his own grief. Everything filtered back to him slowly, and he was mildly surprised to find himself cupped against a giant chest in a facsimile of a group hug. He took several deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose to regain his composure, or what was left of it.  
  
He wasn't alone. At least there was that comforting fact. He may have been rejected by his mother and lost all chance of returning to his family, but he wasn't alone. Sam's supportive hand was there, and Dean's was impossible to miss. Maybe Dean was tall and intimidating, but he'd _saved_ Jacob. He’d gotten him out of harm's way so that, at least for the moment, he was safe. Without Dean’s quick thinking, Jacob might have been tossed across the floor of his mother’s new home, breaking on the hardwood.  
  
Like a stretched spring snapping back, the tension left Jacob's body. He felt like a baby deer, unsure of his own limbs. It was like all the giddiness and high hopes from before had been replaced by a constant buzz of electricity that stung in his fingertips and left his joints feeling strangely hollow.  
  
He cleared his throat again, pausing when he noticed anew just how loud Dean's heartbeat was. How big his hand was. Everything was so much bigger than Jacob, and after what he'd just been through he felt extra small. This damn curse had cut him off from _everything._  
  
"L-look, Dean I'm not sure where I'll go. And I know you've been driving all day already but you'll probably want to get moving before Mike follows through on what he said ... He wasn't kidding about writing you up, he's a cop."  
  
Jacob couldn't believe that was what worried him at first. That the police officer in the room might recognize Dean from the shapeshifter case.  
  
What really happened was so much worse.  
  
"I, uh, don't think I'll be able to hang out on your shoulder right now," he admitted sheepishly. But it was true; his grasp on anything would be tenuous and Jacob could go tumbling to the seat of the Impala with even the slightest bump.  
  
Dean slowly moved his hand back away from his chest, giving Sam a second to let go and drop back into the pocket. He stared down at Jacob, giving a forced smile. “Whatever you want kid. I can drive for however long I need to. I’ve driven longer than that more than once. But don’t worry about the cops. I can handle that one, no problem. I always do. And Jacob?” Jacob glanced sullenly up.  
  
Dean held him up higher, looking him straight in the eyes. “You’re _not_ different. You’re just a little smaller, that’s all. Don’t let any curse tell you otherwise, you hear me?”  
  
With that off his chest, Dean moved his hand over to the pocket. This time he did his best to lower Jacob gently in, letting the kid land next to Sam with barely a bump. Starting up the car, Dean found some soft rock to put on in the background. He sent one last glance at the house. The memory of Jacob coming so close to being thrown across the room rose to the fore of his mind. Family or not, Jacob couldn’t afford to risk that again. Jacob could have _died_ if that blow hit.  
  
After everything, Dean had failed to reunite a family. But Jacob was still safe, and alive, and had a place, whether he wanted it or not.  
  
The Impala left the home of Jacob’s family behind.  
  


* * *

  
Sam helped catch Jacob as the huge fingers around him released. “Gotcha,” he muttered. Dean was getting better at handling them, at least. As odd as that sounded in his head when he thought about it.  
  
The sound of the Impala roared to life in the background, filling the car with the rumble of the engine. Music filtered through the pocket, soft enough that it wasn’t in danger of hurting Sam or Jacob’s ears this time. The chords to _A Horse With No Name_ made their way through the air as Sam wrapped his arms around Jacob, giving him a real hug.  
  
His adopted brother, rejected by his family. Sam hadn’t been able to see everything that happened, but he’d seen the look in Mariana’s eyes when she stared down at her only son. Like he was an abomination, and that would hurt more than anything.  
  
Jacob sighed, caught in another hug and not minding the fact. He was suddenly exhausted, more than he'd been in a long time. There was a heavy weight settling over him that no amount of strength could hope to stop. So when Sam's tight embrace ended, Jacob abruptly buckled and sat in the pocket.  
  
The motion of the car around them provided an almost surreal backdrop while his thoughts lurched around. He had the energy to settle himself in a more secure position in the pocket with his legs tucked close and his bag on his lap. He met Sam's eyes and tried to offer a terse smile, but only accomplished a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.  
  
Almost without his willing it, Jacob's hands slipped into his satchel, diving right towards the bottom past everything else. All of his supplies for survival were passed over as he got his hands on something at the very bottom and drew it out. With his bead in hand, he nudged the satchel closed.  
  
The green glass that he held close to his heart really was all he had left. He couldn't hang onto his most recent memories of his mom, so the only option would be to try to act as if he'd never seen her. Never seen the way she looked down at him while her hand sped towards him. Jacob heaved a short sigh. Preventing those memories from etching into his brain would require a strong effort from him.  
  
While his fingertips absently moved back and forth over the one scratch on the glass, Jacob muttered "I guess ... I guess I'll have to go back to _Trails West_ or something. Walt and Mallory will probably have me back, right?" He glanced over at Sam for confirmation, though he didn't actually have any doubts.  
  
It seemed like he'd be going back alone, though. Sam had found his family. He'd go with Dean for sure.  
  
Sam looked sadly back at him. “Of course they would. They’d never dream of turning us away.” He blinked, trying to clear up the tears that were hidden in his eyes. Ever since finding Dean, he’d dreamt of them both finding a place with their families. Somewhere they could be happy, even if it wasn’t together.  
  
Jacob had lost it all. No future with his family. Back to the motel their lives had dead ended at. Sam sighed. “I’ll ask Dean to take us back there,” he said. Whatever happened, Jacob wouldn’t face going home alone. Sam could be there for that, at least. No matter what happened afterwards.  
  
The only thing Sam had going for him in the pocket when he tried to stand this time was Dean wasn’t walking. The gentle sway of the car didn’t impede him.  
  
Sam pushed up the flap of the pocket, trying to angle it so they could both see out. Of course, all he could make out was the bottom of Dean’s chin from all the way down on his chest, a less than ideal point of view.   
  
“Dean?” Sam called up.  
  
Dean’s head dipped down for a moment, his green eyes meeting Sam’s from high above. “Hey kid,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Jacob… wants to know if you can take him… _us_ back to _Trails West._ Since… he doesn’t have a family to stay with.”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Sure. If that’s what he wants, I’ll head right back. But…” He peered down once more. “He doesn’t _have_ to go back. If he’s looking for his family… he doesn’t have to go any further. He’s _your_ brother, after all. Which means he’s _mine_. And family watches out for each other. Both of you will always have a place here.”  
  
Jacob froze, much in the same way he'd been taught to do if he was in a room and a human hadn't spotted him yet. His eyes widened and he lost his focus for a second. The bead in his hands blurred in front of him as hidden tears threatened to break the recently-repaired dam.  
  
After three years of Sam looking out for him after the curse hit, Jacob couldn't think of him as any less than a brother. Adopted or not, and no matter whether or not Jacob had stayed in that tidy little house on Baybrook lane. Sam was family ...  
  
Jacob just hadn't expected Dean to take him in as well. Dean had called Jacob a brother too. Called him _family._ So soon after losing his chances of going back to his mom, the offer struck him hard. Jacob may have lost one family, but he had another to turn to.  
  
He looked up finally, his amazement still written all over his face. He stammered a bit before taking a breath and collecting his thoughts. Trying again, he said "I mean ... if you'll have me." It was almost bizarre to think about it. Jacob had spent the last few days thinking he was seeing how close Sam and Dean were as brothers from an outsider perspective.  
  
And now he'd been freely invited in.  
  
Dean glanced down one last time, meeting Jacob’s small eyes down in the corner of his own pocket. “You don’t even have to ask,” he said in response. He lifted up a hand, cupping it around the pocket… that now held _both_ of his little brothers. “You both deserve better than being stuck in some motel for the rest of your lives.”  
  
He let the pocket flap drop down, sealing them off from view so he could concentrate on the drive. Even if there was no destination in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family don't end in blood...
> 
> **Last:** Coming October 23 rd 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> *****The story ends 10/23! Please vote in[this poll](http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/151841234459/what-story-should-post-next) to help decide which story posts next! Voting ends 10/21*****
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	27. Memories

That night, the Impala was parked in a field in the middle of nowhere. A silken tapestry of stars stretched over their heads, glittering gems in the dark sky.  
  
Dean dropped the cooler on the ground next to the hood of the car, digging out a beer before he took a seat. Sam and Jacob already sat on the slick black hood, waiting for him. Aside from a brief stop to fuel up and grab some grub, the afternoon had been spent driving.  
  
It was peaceful and cathartic for them all, something Dean rarely did when he was on his own. His time was usually spent in the car trying to reach one point from another. Focused, and driven. This time, they all needed a chance to recover from the events in Carlisle, and the road gave them that chance.  
  
Dean had stashed away some extra bottlecaps in his jacket earlier, after discovering that he had nothing else for Sam and Jacob to drink from. Casually popping the top of the beer off with his silver ring, Dean poured out a serving for each of his small brothers first. He carefully handed them off.  
  
Jacob nudged his bag to sit behind him a little more before taking his bottlecap in both hands. He didn't want to risk getting any of the aromatic liquid on the car. He muttered his thanks before holding the cap a little closer and taking a slow breath. He'd never had a beer before, and now he had what would definitely amount to several all to himself.  
  
Sitting on the hood of the Impala meant that Jacob and Sam were surrounded on all sides by a plane of shining black metal, still a little warm from the sun beating down on it all day. It still gave off the faint smell of the engine, though Dean had parked the huge car a while ago and given her plenty of time to cool off. The scent mixed with the grassy smell of the field he'd picked.  
  
With a faint breeze sighing by, it was peaceful out there in the middle of nowhere.  
  
Jacob turned his gaze upwards. He was stargazing for the first time in what felt like forever, and they couldn't have found a better spot. Somewhere in the midwest (Jacob hadn't bothered to pay attention from the warm insides of a pocket), the land was flat all around, letting the splash of stars across the sky stretch all the way to the horizon unhindered. Under such a massive sky, even _Dean_ looked small by comparison.  
  
"Been awhile since I could actually see so many constellations without light pollution," Jacob commented, easily finding Orion's belt as a starting point.  
  
Sam leaned back so he could stare straight up at the sky. “Same.” He raised a hand, idly tracing the imagined lines of The Hunter. “I think I was nine the last time we got time to head out to a field between Dad’s cases.” The little hideaway on the roof of the motel was good to get fresh air from, but it was deep inside of the town. Lights from the cars, the gas stations, all the shops in the area bled upwards, hiding the sky they could see above them now.  
  
He’d spent more of his life hidden away than Jacob, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret those years. Now that he had his family back, it was like he’d simply been waiting all that time. Sam shot a glance over at Dean as the hunter took a sip from his own bottle of beer - big enough to fit either Sam or Jacob inside, yet so small in Dean’s hand.  
  
Sam took a drink of his own beer, enjoying the flavor. It was so different than anything he was used to. For the last thirteen years, all he’d been able to access was the water from pipes in the motel, tapped into long ago by Walt and the others that lived in the motel. It was simply the way things were for him.  
  
Now, things were different. Sam had Dean back. He might still be small, but the odds had changed drastically for him and Jacob. No matter what, Dean would be there for them. They were family, after all, and nothing could ever change that.  
  
While he was scanning the sky for more familiar patterns, Jacob idly took a sip of his beer. A cool, bitter flavor with a hint of sweet washed down his throat, so different from anything he'd had before. Jacob knew that if he hadn't been cursed, he might have had his first beer way back when he was fourteen, probably sneaking some with his friends from someone's fridge. His days as a high-school mischief-maker ended before they could really get started.  
  
He didn't mind. Now, Jacob was simply enjoying a beer with family. With brothers he never would have thought he'd have. Sam had looked out for him from the very start, and he knew Dean would, too. Jacob would have to do his best to return the favor and take care of them.  
  
"I used to know a lot of them. I had a book some cousin gave me," Jacob replied after another, fuller drink of his beer. "Now I could probably only tell you the main ones."  
  
Sam sighed as he reflected back to his own childhood. “I used to want to know them all, and started to learn some of the main stars.” He pointed out a few, even though Dean wouldn’t be able to see where he was gesturing. It was funny what was coming back after all those years trapped. “Arcturus. Betelgeuse. Sirius.” He shifted position. “One of my favorite galaxies, Andromeda. But I can’t remember many of the constellations anymore.”  
  
Dean glanced over at the pair, joining in for the first time since he’d given them their drinks. It felt good to have someone to talk to at night. To not be alone anymore while he hunted. “Hey, next time I need to stop in at the library on a case, we could pick up some stargazing books.” He smiled up at the sky, downing the rest of his beer. It had been a long time since he’d done anything not related to a case.  
  
“That’d be nice,” Sam said. He tried to imagine what a library would look like at his scale. It was mind boggling, if he stopped to think about it. Shelves as tall as skyscrapers, towering over even Dean’s head. The human hunter might even need a ladder to get down volumes from the topmost shelves. Having access to anything he ever wanted to read… that was something Sam had believed closed off to him long ago.  
  
Jacob hadn't been isolated from things like a library for as long as Sam, but it still struck him once again that he'd have _access_ to simple things like that. With Dean to help them, Jacob and Sam were no longer limited to a meager existence. Hoping food might get dropped somewhere and praying the management never noticed things went missing. Living day to day not knowing if anything good would come about or if it'd be another struggle to get to the sunset.  
  
Knowing what he did about Sam, Jacob doubted his brother would stop at stargazing books. Not with the possibilities opened wide to him now.  
  
Staring upwards, he watched the stars in comfortable silence for several seconds. He traced the blinking red light of a plane far overhead as it sped across the cosmic backdrop. The breeze, a little cooler now, made his hands tingle even as more sips of beer warmed his middle. Jacob had a feeling that peaceful moments like this weren't _that_ common in the hunter lifestyle that Dean dealt with every day, and that Jacob and Sam were now unavoidably a part of.  
  
"Well, hey, at least next time there's a case you _probably_ won't have to bribe Sam to help with research. He's playing cool about it now but he's been dying to get to a book."  
  
“Hey!” Sam sputtered on his drink. “I can at least _try_ and get a bribe out of it!” he complained heartily, shooting a glare towards Jacob.  
  
Dean grinned. “You’ll have to work hard for those bribes, trust me, pint-size. I’ll be keeping you busy on these cases.” He slid off the cooler for a second, digging one last beer out for the night. Relatively, he had the least to drink, considering the size of the bottlecaps to Sam or Jacob. Even though his drinks were a lot bigger.  
  
“Mmm,” Dean finished half the beer in one swig. “Gotta say, I have a feeling you two will make things interesting around here. Finding hexbags in the walls just got a lot easier. Or even spying out of the walls.” He closed his eyes, surprised at the possibilities that rose to mind. As long as they both stayed safe. He’d never forgive himself if he got one of them in trouble.  
  
Not to mention, from the glint in Sam’s eye, he had no intention of being left out of the hunting.  
  
Jacob grinned to himself and took another swig of the beer. When he lowered his cap, he thought he might be feeling the heady effects. That or he was exhausted. It might have been both, but either way the warmth in his belly was spreading as his first drink of alcohol got into his bloodstream. He didn't think he was doing too badly, considering he and Sam essentially had to drink from buckets.  
  
He had wondered briefly if Dean would have Sam and Jacob wait on the sidelines for his cases. After all, everything he faced was so much bigger than they were. The monsters out there were all dangerous to humans, but extra dangerous to Dean's small family. And yet, Dean talked about having them right along with him for hunts. They hadn't had to insist on it or resign themselves to being hidden away while Dean took care of things.  
  
They were a _team_ now.  
  
"Sure thing, you'll have a couple of hidden aces up your sleeves," he mused with a chuckle. He didn't know what a 'hexbag' was, but Jacob had a strong suspicion he'd find out soon enough. He had some catching up to do on the supernatural threats out there, but he'd manage it.  
  
Dean looked over both of them appraisingly. “Maybe even _literally_ up my sleeves,” he mused for himself. They were certainly small enough to hide up a sleeve if they needed to, and he could think of more than one occasion that having backup like that, even really small backup, would have helped out a huge amount.  
  
Finishing off his beer, Dean stood and stretched. “Probably a good time to turn in,” he said. Tucking his empty bottles away, Dean gathered up the cooler and put it in the trunk before heading back to the hood for Sam and Jacob. “Today’s been a long-ass day for all of us.”  
  
Dean held out a hand to the pair. Sam and Jacob both climbed in without hesitation this time, growing more comfortable with their older brother. Curling up his fingers, Dean brought them with him to the backseat of the Impala. He dug a clean shirt out of his duffel, setting it up underneath the back window.  
  
“What do you think?” Dean asked, holding Sam and Jacob over the shirt. “Not the _worst_ place to sleep, right?”  
  
Sam hopped down, testing the plaid flannel Dean had set up for them. “Not bad at all,” he said with a smile, reminded of his own nest of fabric he’d taken to sleeping in ever since he’d helped rescue Jacob.  
  
Jacob stepped down too, testing the cloth with careful steps. His boots sank into the flannel. He could tell how warm the material was just by looking at it. "Works for me," he confirmed, glancing back over at Dean.  
  
Jacob picked a spot and sat down slowly, settling into a crosslegged position. He lifted the strap of his satchel over his head to remove it and set it beside himself carefully. While they all shifted around to get ready to sleep for the night, Jacob's eyes kept drifting upwards. Through a massive window, the deep black sky interrupted by pinpricks of shining stars still kept watch over the trio.  
  
It was hard to believe they'd come together entirely by accident and luck a few days ago. And here they were. "Sam ... Dean ... thanks," he said aloud, the gratitude practically falling out of him. Thanks to them, he still had a family and a place where he could belong.  
  
“Right back atcha,” Dean said tiredly as he bundled up a different shirt to use as a pillow. He hesitated, then went with his first instinct and reached forward, ruffling both their hair with careful fingers. “Honestly, things never felt right, goin’ it alone.”  
  
After Dean’s hand retreated, Sam tried to fix his fluffy hair with an annoyed grimace to hide his amusement. “Good thing you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Jerk.”  
  
“Bitch,” Dean shot back reflexively, flopping down on the seat and curling up. Sam and Jacob had plenty of room, but he had to scrunch up. A 6’1” man didn’t have an easy time sleeping in the back of a car, but after living almost his entire life in the Impala, Dean had an easy time settling down. He was asleep in seconds, his breathing slow and steady.  
  
Jacob snickered and pushed part of the shirt so it bunched up and became a pillow. Before he tugged on another part of it to serve as a blanket, he glanced over at Sam. His adopted brother and mentor in living with the curse, already used to sleeping in a nest of fabric, was already sprawled. It was tough to blame him with how soft the flannel was.  
  
Jacob lay on his back for a few minutes, hands propped behind his head. An overactive mind slowly sorted out the events of the day. The highs and the lows blended together until he worked through them. It hurt deeper than he had felt in a long time to know that his connections to his mother and father were all just memories now.  
  
But it was a vast comfort to know that he still had his brothers. Sam, who had taken him in three years ago, and Dean, who had taken him in mere hours ago. Jacob's eyelids fluttered closed as the comforting truth soothed his worries. His connection to them was real, no matter that he wasn't born with those family ties.   
  
Jacob fell asleep knowing he was safe.  
  
 **FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The family we find is as important as the family we're born with.
> 
> **The winner of the poll is Brothers Adopted: First Hunt, so the story of small Jacob and his adopted family shall continue!**
> 
> **Next:** First Hunt; Coming October 25th 2016 at 9pm est. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love! Let us know what you think of this new storyline!

**Author's Note:**

> Brothers Adopted kicks off at last! An alternate version of Brothers Apart where Sam rescued Jacob after the witch came after him, reducing him in size to almost a twentieth of what he originally stood!
> 
> This was the second AU we created, and we are so excited to share at last! Sam and Jacob are an adorable pair of borrowing bros! Check out the cute artwork of them over on the story tumblr for brothersapart!
> 
> This story is cowritten by PL1, and Jacob Andris and his family is solely owned by her. She was kind enough to mix our writing talents together into these fun stories we love to write!
> 
>  **Next:** Coming August 25 th 2016 at 9pm est.
> 
> Leave a review to let us know what you think!


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